


The Water Was Never Afraid

by MireilleTanaka



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrigami Except Not, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Coping, Disillusionment, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Escapism, Eventual Marichat, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Marichat, Slow Burn, Stop Decapitalizing My Tags, adrienette - Freeform, adrigami, character flaws, gabriel redemption, no akumas, post-university, self deception
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-06-02 12:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 55,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19441183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MireilleTanaka/pseuds/MireilleTanaka
Summary: Newly graduated from university and trying to prove himself to his father, Adrien has come to rely on Kagami for companionship and stress relief. It's only natural that they begin dating when she confesses her feelings to him. But how long can Adrien keep up the perfect son and perfect boyfriend act? Is there anyone in the world he can let his guard down around?Starts off Adrigami but endgame Marichat/Adrienette. It might be a messy ride.





	1. Relationship

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my very first fanfiction posted on AO3! *super nervous* I've been meaning to write this for a long time, ever since hints about Adrien and Kagami's chemistry have started being dropped in the show. Chemistry doesn't always mean the relationship will be good or healthy, and I wanted to explore that. I hope someone will enjoy this story, anyway. :) The goal is to post every day... I will do my best.

“Kagami… how would you define our relationship?”

Kagami looked up from the book she was reading. “What do you mean?”

“Do normal friends do this?” He gestured vaguely around them. At the two of them, the space between them, the private train cabin they were riding in.

Kagami closed her book and set it down on the table. “We’re not ’normal,’ Adrien. ‘Normal’ people don’t impulsively take a trip to Italy just to get away from life. Why are you thinking about this?”

Adrien shrugged, clearly not satisfied with her answer. “I mean, do friends go on trips together like we do? Just the two of us?”

“I don’t see why not.”

It had started with the outings their parents obligated them to go on through collège and lycée. Then, they’d fallen into a pattern of late night fencing matches to blow off steam throughout their busy university years. One mental-health outing to the theater or symphony hall led to another, and another. Now, Kagami was just the person he did things with.

Kagami narrowed her eyes. “Why are you trying to define our relationship? Don’t you like spending time with me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why does it matter what other people do?”

Adrien was at a loss for words. He couldn’t really put a finger on why he’d been fixating on this recently. Most of the traveling pairs they’d met in Italy were couples, and naturally assumed Adrien and Kagami were a couple, too. It never used to bother him when that happened, or when the media circulated gossip about the two of them. It was just another lie among the many lies and half-truths circulating about him. But at the moment, he was feeling introspective, and once the thought process had started, he couldn’t let it go without answers.

“I just feel like we’re toeing a line, and that makes me feel… uncomfortable,” Adrien tried to explain.

Kagami got up from the table and joined Adrien on the couch, folding one leg under her and facing him, her elbow propped against the backrest so she could lean close and inspect him. “Why is it uncomfortable?”

“I don’t know.” Maybe he just wanted a sense of perspective. Sometimes, when you were buried too deeply in something, you couldn’t see it for what it really was. “Do we act like a couple, Kagami?”

“Do we hold hands, Adrien?”

“No.”

“Do we kiss?”

Adrien’s face went red. “No.”

“Then we don’t act like a couple.” Kagami smirked.

Perhaps it was the fact that only one other girl ever smirked at him that way—a girl he’d pined after for what seemed like his entire adolescence and still couldn’t say he was fully over. Perhaps it was the little twinkle in Kagami’s eyes that gave away how fond of him she was. Perhaps it was the fact that there were only the two of them in the train cabin, and sometimes it felt like she was the only person who understood him. But he was drawn in by that lift in the corner of her lips, as if he were a fish and it were a hook.

Kagami observed where he was looking. “Would you like to do those things with me?”

“W-what?” Adrien met her eyes, mortified at how easily she read him. “No.” He said it mostly to preserve his dignity, not because that was the answer.

The smirk grew, making it clear that she didn’t buy his cover-up, and Adrien feared she would do something that he wouldn’t know how to respond to.

She didn’t, though. Flicking his cheek, she got up and returned to her book.

“That was for the unnecessary drama. I like our friendship the way it is. Don’t overthink it.”

“Okay,” Adrien conceded, rubbing his cheek. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his legs onto the sofa. Sighing, he leaned back onto the cushions, draping an arm over his eyes to keep them shut. There were at least another five hours to go.

The sound of a page flipping blended into the rumble and clack of the train.

Despite the peaceful atmosphere, Adrien felt restless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there's chapter one. What did you think? Let me know!


	2. Teach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagami teaches Adrien kyudo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitions of the Japanese terms:
> 
> kyudo - the way of the bow (Japanese archery)  
> gomuyumi - literally "rubber bow," a tool used to emulate the tension of the bow for beginners

“Breathe deeply and draw.”

Adrien pulled on an elastic band attached to a plastic handle, mimicking the motion of drawing a bow. There was more resistance than he expected.

Kagami applied gentle pressure to his right shoulder, and he realized he was tensing up.

“Relax,” she coaxed. “Try to retain the same form as you did without the _gomuyumi_.” She pushed down on his right hand and elbow. “Your hands should be aligned at shoulder height. Stop raising your elbow. Don’t grip it so tightly—that’s a big mistake. And don’t shake.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” Adrien grumbled, trying to keep track of all Kagami’s instructions and hold steady.

“You’re tensing—that’s not how you stop shaking.” Kagami ran a hand down the length of his left arm, the one holding the handle. “ _Relax_.”

“Easier said than done.” Adrien lowered his arms with a frustrated sigh. Shaking the burn out of his muscles, he turned to her with a wry smile. “When you said you were going to teach me Japanese archery, I thought I’d at least get the satisfaction of sending an arrow into a target.”

“ _Kyudo_ isn’t just target practice, Adrien. It’s all about the harmony of form and mindset.”

“But this isn’t even a bow.” Adrien swung the elastic band around the short plastic rod it was attached to—a contraption resembling a slingshot.

“If you learn how to use the _gomuyumi_ correctly, it’ll prepare you to shoot a real bow.” Kagami picked up a bow that was resting against the wall, strung an arrow, and drew it slowly. “See? Look at my form. It should be familiar.”

Adrien observed the posture of her arms and torso, admiring her graceful poise and the way her eyes focused on the target with the intensity of a hawk. She held the position for so long without shaking, he had started to wonder if she was taunting him with her flawless muscle control, when she suddenly let the arrow fly. It landed in the straw target, dead center.

“Wow,” Adrien gasped.

Lowering her arms slowly and retrieving the arrow, Kagami turned to Adrien with a faint smile. He knew this expression—she was about to call him out on a mistake.

“You’re impressed because I hit the target.”

“Uh…” Adrien didn’t know what she was about to say, but he already felt stupid. “Yeah?”

“I’m shooting from seven feet away—it’s almost impossible not to hit the target. When you shoot with the correct form and mindset, the shot will land every time. That’s why practicing with the _gomuyumi_ is so important.”

“Ah.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. When he was with Kagami, he felt like he was always missing the point, going through life blind, and everything she said made him open his eyes a little wider. She inspired him to think better, be better. “I get it, I think. Let me try again…”

He assumed position and started to draw the _gomuyumi_ , but Kagami touched his arm to stop him. “That’s enough for today. You’ll wear out your muscles. By tomorrow, your form will be better. Shall we have some tea?”

Adrien nodded, coiling the elastic band around the handle and placing the gomuyumi on a low table at the perimeter of the dojo.

—

“I was thinking about our conversation yesterday,” Kagami began, setting down her teacup.

“Oh?” Adrien took a small sip of green tea, holding the hot ceramic rim gingerly.

“Would it bother you less if you got a clear answer?”

Adrien shook his head and set down his cup. “It’s not that I’m bothered. I was just thinking about it yesterday, that’s all. I’m fine with the way things are between us.”

Kagami reached across the table and, putting her hand on his, spoke seven words that shook Adrien’s world. “I’ve loved you since we were fourteen, Adrien.”

The air turned thick, and silence pressed down on the two of them. The warmth of Kagami’s hand seemed to climb up Adrien’s arm. This wasn’t what he was expecting her to say. The hesitant lilt in her voice betrayed a sensitive and tender side that she didn’t let him see often.

He knew she had liked him eight years ago, when he was still infatuated with Ladybug. But since then, their friendship had evolved, and their rapport was so natural that he had assumed the feelings had blown over. Any occasional flirting he had just chalked up to the fact that Kagami didn’t hold back and enjoyed teasing him. The realization that her feelings hadn’t changed came as an utter surprise.

“I…” He struggled to come up with words to express what he was feeling. It wasn’t easy when he was still reeling from her sudden declaration.

“It’s okay,” Kagami reassured him, sensing that he didn’t know how to respond. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted you to know… if there’s anything beyond friendship in our relationship… the reason _you’re_ always the one I choose to spend time with… it’s because I love you.”

She looked away, her cheeks tinged pink, and retracted her hand.

Her vulnerability reminded him of the Kagami he knew back in collège, the Kagami who had pressed the rose he gave her and gotten akumatized because of heartbreak over him. How had he been so blind?

He knew what it felt like to pine after the person right next to him for eight years.

Now that Hawkmoth had stopped akumatizing people, he only saw Ladybug once a week, usually only for ten minutes or so. It was she who had insisted on these meetings, so they could bring up any unusual observations and do a quick run around the city. No one knew why Hawkmoth had stopped, except Adrien, but he agreed to the meetings anyway. It was easier to go along with Ladybug’s tentative caution than to explain why it wasn’t needed. Mostly, he selfishly wanted to keep her in his life. A part of him, he thought, would always be in love with her. Though the emotional distance helped him get over his hopeless, soul-consuming crush to some extent, she still had the power to disarm him with a single look or touch. He didn’t push her anymore, though. He respected that she didn’t feel the same way about him, and over the years, had come to terms with the idea of her dating someone else, even marrying someone else.

It wasn’t something he had considered for himself, though. He figured he would move on eventually, but he wasn’t in a rush. Safely loving Ladybug from a distance had just become a comfortable feature of his emotional landscape.

So, he knew how Kagami felt. But what was he supposed to _do_ about it?

Ever since the day they had met, he had admired Kagami and found her attractive. He couldn’t deny that he had entertained thoughts about her on multiple occasions. But whatever he felt toward Kagami had always been overshadowed by his feelings for Ladybug, and after those initial years in collège, she hadn’t voiced any desire to take their friendship beyond what it was, so those thoughts had never turned into actions.

Maybe this was an opportunity.

Maybe now was a good time to move on.

Adrien broke the silence. “You’re coming to the Gala on Sunday, aren’t you?”

“Of course. You know that. Mother expects me to attend.”

Kagami was still looking away, her eyes downcast—an act of self-preservation. Adrien knew she didn’t like exposing weakness. She had bared her feelings to him and was still waiting for him to respond. Her hand was still resting on the table, inches away. He took it gently in his, and she looked up in surprise.

“Would you like to go together?”

The pink dusting on Kagami’s cheeks deepened into a full blush.

“We both have to be there, regardless.” Kagami’s deadpan tone belied her dazed look. She was struggling to keep her composure.

“I mean as a date,” Adrien clarified.

Kagami stared at him for a moment, lips parted, as if trying to decide if he was serious or not. Finally, she smiled, warmth and relief flooding her features. “Okay. Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done traditional western archery, but not kyudo (though I have observed it and learned about it academically), so I apologize if I've gotten anything wrong. Please tell me if I did!
> 
> What do you think so far? Let me know in the comments. Thanks for giving this story a chance!


	3. Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Kagami take a break from the Gala, and Adrien tries to ignore the bitter taste in the back of his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, we start seeing more characters and different interactions. I hope you'll stick around for more of this story!

“Careful of the duck poop,” Adrien warned, steering Kagami around a dark patch on the sidewalk.

“Thank you.”

There was a lone bench at the edge of the lake. Adrien led Kagami by the crook of her arm and gestured for her to sit. Smiling sweetly, she gathered her skirt primly and sat. He followed, settling beside her.

That was one thing he liked about Kagami—she was confident, headstrong, determined, and had no problem showing him who was boss on the fencing strip, but she also helped him patiently when he needed it, and let him lead her as a gentleman would. She was a tantalizing combination of unyielding and yielding, hard and soft.

The sounds of the party carried across the air and seemed to dissolve across the surface of the lake. The speeches and performances had finished and the guests were all up and about, dancing and mingling in a jumble of sophisticated chaos—the perfect chance to slip away for a taste of the night air.

“Mother said your playing was beautiful,” Kagami murmured, fingering the edge of her sheer sleeve, embroidered with tiny chrysanthemums. “I thought so, too. Very expressive.”

“Thank you.” Instead of just going through the motions, he’d imagined he was playing for Kagami. “It helped to have someone special in the audience.” He tested his flirty wink on her, usually reserved only for Ladybug.

It worked. She smiled and diverted her eyes, probably blushing, though it was difficult to tell in this lighting.

It felt nice to be able to affect someone that way.

A fountain pattered the surface of the lake, its hidden light source casting a dreamlike glow across the rippling water. Though the sun’s disappearance went a long way in cooling the air, the night was still fairly warm. Adrien shrugged off his jacket, leaving him in an ash grey waistcoat, matching slacks, and white button down shirt. He removed his emerald cuff links, tucked them into a pocket, and loosely folded his shirt sleeves up to the elbow.

“What? Don’t judge me,” he joked in response to Kagami’s raised eyebrow. “You have sheer sleeves, while I’m boiling alive in a three-piece suit. Men’s formal wear in summer—the curse of being male.”

“Don’t get too comfortable. We have to go back in soon,” she reminded him.

“Let’s stay out here for a little while,” he pushed back.

The blinking of fireflies along the bank distracted him. “The fireflies are out already,” he noted, pointing across the lake. “I forget about their existence every year, until the next summer rolls around.”

“They look like your tie,” Kagami said with a faint smile, curling a petite hand just below the knot.

“Huh?” Adrien looked down. Kagami tipped his tie left and right, and the tiny crystals embedded in the fabric caught the light from the fountain, twinkling just like the fireflies. He chuckled. “You’re right.”

Kagami rested her head in the hollow of Adrien’s shoulder, letting her hand slide down from his tie to rest against his side. “Is this okay?”

“Of course.” Adrien curled an arm around her, surprised at how small she was. He didn’t think of her as a delicate person, but she seemed delicate now, tucked into the crook of his arm. “You’re not cold? Your dress is practically sleeveless.”

Her dress was a combination of eastern and western styles. A deep red silk bodice showed through a cream organza kimono top with flowing sleeves. The sheer material clearly showed the silhouette of her arms, and tucked into a wide obi around her waist, the same color as the bodice, that gathered in the back and joined her layered red-and-black A-line skirt to cascade down to the ankle. Overall, the dress was very flattering on her, cropped to the knee in front to show off her toned calves and contemporary _geta_ shoes shaped with graceful curves and elevated heels.

Kagami shook her head. “Not at all. It’s nice out. And you? Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” His answer wasn’t confident. It felt better to be away from the crowds, the pressure to entertain and make scintillating conversation and be generally perfect. It felt better to be out of his stifling jacket. Yet, being outside reminded Adrien of being whipped by the wind at the top of the Eiffel tower, crouching behind chimneys making hurried plans with Ladybug, and squinting for footholds as he leap-frogged across the roofs of buildings—and all of that awoke a different type of longing in him.

Stirred by years worth of latent memories, he was suddenly seized with the urge to leave the party and just go somewhere else with Kagami.

“Do we really have to go back?” he asked, testing the waters.

“Why, do you have something else in mind?”

“We could explore the city.”

Kagami tipped her head back to meet his eyes, clearly disapproving of the idea. “We can explore another day. Do you really think we won’t be noticed if we just leave?”

“We’re adults. We can come and go as we please.”

Kagami shook her head. “I don’t want to upset Mother. She hasn’t been in good health lately.”

Adrien frowned, feeling a sting of disappointment, despite his suggestion being only half serious. “Ah, well,” he shrugged. “It was worth a try, anyway. You owe me an adventure, then.”

“I’ll be sure to deliver.” Kagami smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Adrien…”

“It was a stupid idea anyway.” Taking her hand, he stood, tugging her with him. “Let’s go back.”

“You’re not angry, are you?” Kagami put her other hand on his cheek and turned his face to hers.

“Of course not. Why would I be?” Adrien forced a smile. He shouldn’t have thought about Ladybug. He wasn’t angry—just frustrated, nostalgic, a seed of his old depression sprouting a leaf. He didn’t feel like staying outside anymore.

“I’m not sure, but you seem upset.”

Adrien had no reason to be upset, and felt bad that Kagami had sensed his mood. He gazed back at the lake, watching the ripples, trying to mentally shake off the feeling before heading back inside.

When he didn’t answer, Kagami stood on her tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to Adrien’s cheek, right by the corner of his mouth. The scent of her perfume lingered along with the tingling of his skin, fresh jasmine mixed with other florals.

“There’s a time for everything, Adrien,” she said quietly, her expression solemn yet soft. “Without accepting that, you’ll never be happy.”

“I know,” he sighed, interlacing his fingers with hers. Her words struck home for him, more than she probably intended.

He hated stuffy events like this gala, and he wished he could have a night out with Kagami without having to worry about impressing the public and their parents, like other young men his age, but that just wasn’t his life. Even when they traveled abroad, he had to constantly think about how he was representing the Agreste name. Couldn’t he do anything as Adrien that felt as free as he had felt with Ladybug, as Chat Noir? He was determined to try.

“Promise me one night we can just go out and enjoy the city like normal people.”

Kagami raised an eyebrow. “Why do I not like the sound of that?”

“Come on, Kagami, you know me. I wouldn’t want us to do anything we’d regret.” He looked at her imploringly.

She kept him in suspense for a moment before answering. “All right. I promise. I trust you.”

“Thank you.” Eyes crinkling in a smile, Adrien led her back up the path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geta - traditional Japanese wooden shoes, like the ones Kagami is wearing in Animaestro.
> 
> See you tomorrow!


	4. Proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way out from a meeting at Gabriel, Adrien runs into one of his favorite people. If only he saw more of her these days.

“Good morning, Étienne.” Adrien greeted the photographer with a handshake as he stepped out of the elevator, then waved at a woman who smiled at him. “Hello, Mathilde, hope all is well.”

He was in high spirits. His father was testing the merit of his business management degree by putting him in charge of rolling out the fall line—under heavy supervision of course—and the meeting with the staff involved had gone smoothly. Now that his father was teaching him all aspects of the business, they had more to talk about, and Adrien had more chances to catch his attention.

Not that he was running around like a puppy for his father’s approval anymore. Those days were over; too much had changed. More than anything, he wanted his father to trust him enough to lean on him.

As he crossed the lobby, a young woman ahead of him dropped a bright orange-red floral patterned silk scarf and kept walking without noticing. He picked it up and called out to her—a slender woman with dark shoulder-length hair, dressed in a black sleeveless shirt and beige wide-leg pants—just as she was about to walk through the sliding glass doors. “Excuse me, miss! Your scarf.”

The woman turned around, and brilliant blue eyes struck him.

“Marinette!”

Her face broke into a grin. “Adrien! Good morning. You didn’t recognize me?”

He shook his head. He hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, and then only in passing, but that wasn’t the reason. Even though they weren’t close anymore, he was certain he’d recognize Marinette anywhere under normal circumstances. “Your hair looks different. Did you cut it?”

“A little.” Seeming pleased that he had noticed, she turned her head to show off an angled bob that barely brushed her shoulders. He noted with amusement that her bangs hadn’t changed since collège.

“Very cute.” He gave her a thumbs up of approval and held out her scarf, only to realize why she had dropped it in the first place. She was holding what looked to be the entire contents of her purse—wallet pinched between her elbow and her waist, phone and a coffee cup balanced precariously in one hand, a handful of pens, alcohol markers and a bundle of swatches in the other, a sketchpad and a few bound books hugged to her chest. “Wow. Let me take a wild guess. Spilled coffee in your purse?”

Marinette’s face reddened in embarrassment. “How did you know?”

“Really?” Adrien laughed. “That was a shot in the dark, but it seemed like something that would happen to you.”

“What are you implying, Agreste?” Marinette gave him a mock scowl.

“You seem to have a superpower of attracting disasters,” Adrien teased.

Marinette snorted to herself. “Ah, if only you knew.”

“I guess I’ll have to help you.” He stepped closer, holding up the scarf. “How did you have this? Just draped? Loose knot?” 

He folded it in half diagonally and hung it around her neck like a cowboy bandana, and Marinette shook her head frantically. “Are you really the son of a fashion designer?!”

“I’m hopeless. I have no talent,” he sighed dramatically. “If I weren’t so photogenic, my father would have disowned me long ago.”

“Fix my scarf this instant or you might not be so photogenic anymore,” Marinette threatened.

“You’re lucky my bodyguard didn’t hear you say that,” Adrien warned, but with a fond smile, he fixed the scarf and tied the corners neatly around her neck, tugging her hair out from under it. “There. That looks nice.”

“It’s a little tight,” Marinette complained, and Adrien picked at the knot to loosen it.

“Sorry,” he apologized instinctively, self conscious of their intimate distance all of a sudden. “I guess I should have just offered you a hand and let you do it yourself. Can I carry something for you?”

“It’s okay. I’m just going to the park down the street to do some sketching. It’s not far.”

“Only 11 a.m. and you already want to escape?”

“Of course not!” Marinette looked unexpectedly mortified, and upon pondering why, Adrien remembered he _was_ technically her boss’s son and she didn’t want to look like she was slacking. Irritation flickered in him, not at her, but at the fact that his ‘status’ was getting in the way of the ease of their friendship.

“Relax, I was kidding. I’ll walk with you if you let me carry something.”

“That’s two favors for me and none for you. That’s not how it works.” Despite her words, Marinette shifted the books in her arms so they tipped toward him. “Thanks, though. I suppose you could take these, if you really don’t mind?”

“It’s my pleasure.” He took the books from her and they fell into step, sliding glass doors parting before them as they exited into the dazzling outdoors.

“The studio is just so busy, I can’t get the ideas to flow. I like going to the park and seeing people pass by. It’s inspiring,” Marinette explained.

“I get that.” Adrien nodded. “So, how have you been? Is my father treating you well?”

“Everything’s great!” Marinette tossed her head to clear a lock of hair that the wind had blown into her face. “I mean, it’s busy, and a little crazy, but I love it. Interning at Gabriel is … literally, a dream come true.”

He remembered his first glimpse of her sketchbook all those years ago, when he’d thought it was Alya’s. He’d been impressed back then, but now, her childhood aspirations had become a reality through her hard work and dedication, and his heart soared with pride for her. “I’m really happy for you. You’re amazing, so don’t get discouraged.”

“I know it won’t always be easy. I’m ready to tough it out—this is what I’ve wanted since I was a kid, after all.”

They crossed the street and entered through the park’s gates.

“And what about you, Adrien?”

“Me?” He paused to think. “Life is good. I was nervous about the meeting this morning, but it went well.”

“You, nervous?”

Adrien shrugged sheepishly. “I’m not used to this yet. I’m worried I’m going to screw everything up and drag my father’s company to the ground.”

“Oh, come on!” Marinette bumped him playfully with her shoulder. “Don’t be paranoid!”

“I seem to attract disasters, too.” He thumbed his ring.

“No you don’t, Mr. _Perfect!_ ”

“I am _far_ from _perfect_.”

“Looks are deceiving.” Marinette dumped her belongings onto a bench and reached out to muss his hair, the way she used to in lyceé. “Okay, now you look the part. Disaster Magnet Agreste.”

“I guess that makes you the disaster,” Adrien joked. Then, catching the double meaning he hadn’t intended, he blushed and smoothed his hair. “Sorry.”

Marinette’s cheeks turned crimson. “No, sorry, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m sure because of—you know—you and Kagami, I shouldn’t mess with you in public. Sorry. I shouldn’t have let you help me. We’ve known each other so long—it slipped my mind that you’re famous and you can’t just be doing these things—”

“Marinette!” Adrien put down the books and held up his hands to stop her panicked babble. “It’s really okay. It’s no big deal. I’m glad I could help.”

“Thank you.” As if she’d clammed up, Marinette’s voice was tight and she still seemed uncomfortable.

“How did you hear about Kagami and me?” He didn’t know their relationship was public knowledge, but then again, the rumors had already been floating around the media long before they started dating.

“Ah… I saw you together at the gala.”

“You were there?” Adrien asked rhetorically, mentally smacking his forehead. Of course she was there. She was interning under Camille, his father’s favorite senior designer. Not all interns attended the Gabriel events, but Camille was very proactive in showing her interns the ins and outs of the industry, including social events. He felt sorry for not having anticipated this and sought Marinette out, but since it was his first official date with Kagami, his mind had been preoccupied. “Sorry, I should have known. I’m sorry I didn’t look for you.”

Marinette shook her head. “It’s okay. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You wouldn’t have been,” Adrien protested. 

Marinette smiled in a way that implied she didn’t agree, but wasn’t going to put up a fuss. “Thanks for helping me, Adrien.”

Adrien twisted a lock of hair behind his ear. “Well… I hope you find your muse.” He paused. He would have liked to continue the conversation. Being with Marinette was like a breath of fresh air, bringing back memories of the way they’d been close back in high school. Together with Alya and Nino, the four of them had been inseparable, but when their paths split in university, lining up their schedules to make time to meet had become a challenge. “I’m glad we ran into each other. Maybe we could grab coffee sometime and catch up?”

“Sure, if Kagami is okay with it.” Marinette crossed her legs, propping her open sketchbook on her knee, and smiled up at him. He had almost forgotten the way her blue irises looked like the surface of a lake with the overhead tree leaves reflected in them.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, but yeah, I’ll ask her.” Adrien stepped away and waved goodbye over his shoulder. “See you later.”

“Bye, Adrien.”

Adrien crossed the park, heading in the direction of the Agreste mansion. It had been about a week since he’d last seen his father, though they spoke almost daily over the phone. He could call him to update him on that morning’s meeting, but figured it was due time to pay him a visit. He could tell him in person.

As he walked, he whipped out his phone and placed a call to his assistant. “Celeste? Are there any purses from last season laying around?” He waited as she checked. “Great. Could you please bring one out to Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng at the park? Uhh… I don’t know… pink? Thank you.”

Pocketing his phone, he made his way to his former home with a jaunt in his step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to be out all day today, so I'm posting this while I can. What did you think?


	5. Era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien visits his father.

Adrien cracked open the door to the dining room. “Father?”

There was movement in the room, and he spied his father in one of the steel blue armchairs across from the dining table.

“Adrien. Good morning. Or is it afternoon?” His platinum-blond head rose slightly, but he didn’t turn around. His tone sounded distracted, colored with a dangerous note that made Adrien shudder.

He hurried across the room to his father’s side. Gabriel was bowed over a photo album, and there were at least half a dozen other albums stacked on the small round table beside him.

“Father, what are you doing?”

Gabriel closed the album as if trying to hide what he was looking at, but Adrien pried it back open.

“You’re looking at pictures of Mom?”

“I had a rough morning,” Gabriel growled defensively. “I was just taking a break.”

Adrien took the large album off his father’s lap and set it on top of the others. “What happened?”

“The manufacturers sent over the first round of samples for the mass market, and they used the wrong fabric. Everything is ruined. I argued with them for an hour before I lost my patience and made Nathalie deal with them. She’s on the phone with them now.”

_Poor Nathalie_ , Adrien thought, sighing. Normally, manufacturing issues shouldn’t be enough to throw his father into such a funk, but his delicate mental state lately meant any small problem could be like a match to the tinder. Out loud, he tried to be optimistic for Gabriel’s sake. “Nothing that can’t be fixed, right, Father?”

“By the time they sent the samples, they had already started mass producing the pieces, even after I _expressly demanded_ that they get my approval before proceeding. Reordering the fabric and starting over will set production back by two weeks. _Two weeks!_ I can’t afford to wait two weeks, Adrien.”

“No, _we_ can’t,” Adrien sighed, dropping a subtle hint that his father was not alone. “But, what can we do? We’ll just have to tell our vendors that the release will be delayed.”

“I’ve had enough of dealing with these incompetent factories,” Gabriel grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose, elbows resting on his knees. “God, I miss Emilie. She was so good at handling these people.”

“Why don’t you let _me_ handle them, Father?” Adrien said with a weary smile as he began to mentally calculate how much this offer would increase his workload. “What else am I going to do with my twelve years of Chinese?”

Gabriel let out an irritated grunt, which wasn’t exactly an approval or a denial. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Adrien tried a different tack. “Why are you looking at Mom’s old pictures?”

“Seeing her alive and active calms me down,” Gabriel muttered, but his pained, bitter expression said otherwise. “I missed her, but I couldn’t bear to visit her in the basement today and see her looking like a corpse.”

Adrien’s heart twisted at the ugly reminder of their dark family secret. He had pleaded with his father to just let her go. From everything they had been told, her condition was irreversible, but his father was adamant on keeping her alive, even if there was no hope to restore her. “Do you actually feel better, Father?” He doubted it. Anything to do with Emilie was guaranteed to send Gabriel down a spiral of depression. He was shamelessly wallowing in his pain.

“Yes I do.” Gabriel’s hand stirred on something small and black beside his leg. Adrien’s eyes narrowed on it—a small box.

“Father, what is that?” he asked in a warning tone. He knew what it was—the butterfly miraculous.

“Nothing.” Gabriel shoved the box under his leg.

“Father.” Adrien stepped in front of Gabriel and put his hands on his hips. “You promised those days were behind you.”

“I wasn’t going to put it on.”

“Then stop toying with the idea.”

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut and held out the box silently. Adrien took it from him and pocketed it.

“Put it in the safe for me,” Gabriel ordered him, eyes still screwed shut and face downcast.

“Yes, Father, I will.” Adrien contemplated ‘forgetting’ to do so and simply returning the miraculous to Master Fu, safe from his father’s unstable hands. However, doing so would break the fragile threads of trust that were beginning to form between father and son. Gabriel wasn’t ready to let go of the miraculous yet, so Adrien took the slow route—helping him heal until he could make the responsible choice. He hoped they would make it that far, at least.

Adrien watched his father hurting, wishing he could help. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to step forward and put a hand on his father’s shoulder. He really didn’t know what he was doing—he didn’t have many supportive role models in his life—but he had to try something.

The man was like a statue under his palm, showing no indication that the warm touch had gotten through to him.

“The meeting went well this morning. I can go over everything in detail with you, if you’re feeling up to it.” When Gabriel still didn’t move or speak, he hastily added, “Later, maybe. I just wanted you to know that the fall line is moving forward according to schedule, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Good.”

Adrien removed his hand from his father’s shoulder and gathered up half of the albums on the table. “The meeting with the senior designers is tomorrow. Do you think you can be there?”

“‘Be there?’” Gabriel’s head shot up. He worked in his home atelier. He made phone calls and held video conferences. He signed papers. Nathalie and Adrien reported to him. He didn’t go to the office. “I can call in.”

“The team is working hard, Father. I think they would really appreciate if you could be there… in person. Everyone looks up to you, you know.”

“I should hope so,” Gabriel grumbled. “I’m the one signing their paychecks.”

Adrien turned his face away to roll his eyes surreptitiously. “Please, Father. Attend the meeting. For me?”

“All right.”

Inwardly, Adrien was rejoicing over this answer, but outwardly, he maintained a stoic face so his visible excitement couldn’t change his father’s mind. He was just desperate to get his father out of the house and distract him from his consuming thoughts. “Thank you. Would you like to have dinner with the Tsurugis tonight?”

“Ah… here? Have Gustave whip up whatever Tsurugi-san likes. He should know.”

“Why don’t we go out for a change?” Adrien pressed. “I think it would do you good to get out of the house, don’t you think?”

Gabriel let out a long-suffering sigh. “If you wish.”

“Kagami said her mother really liked a restaurant that they visited last week and wanted to invite you. She said to just pick the day and let her know.”

“All right.” Gabriel sounded reluctant, yet resigned. “Only because I trust her taste.”

“I’m sure you won’t be disappointed, Father,” Adrien said wryly. “I’ll let Kagami know.”

“By the way,” Gabriel rose from his seat, “I never congratulated you on your relationship with Mademoiselle Tsurugi. She’s a fine young woman. Excellent choice.”

“Thank you.” Adrien felt a mixture of discomfort at Gabriel’s word choice and pleasure at his approval. “… Shall we put these back?” He nodded at the remainder of the albums that were still on the table.

Sighing again, Gabriel took them into his arms, and he and Adrien silently walked to the study to return them to the shelf. Their footsteps echoed through the house that seemed too large for a family of two.

The era of akuma fights had ended, but the emotional war wasn’t over yet. Instead of on the streets of Paris, it was raging in the hearts of the Agreste men, hidden behind closed doors and under designer clothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. So we get a bit of insight into the present situation with Hawkmoth. What do you guys think?
> 
> To anyone who's read this far, thank you so much. I'm curious about who's actually reading past the Adrigami and whether you find this story interesting or not. :D


	6. Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Kagami go out to eat; Adrien gets a reality check.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I hope you like this chapter.There are definitions for the Japanese words in the end notes.

Adrien slid open the _shoji_ door and leaned over the threshold of the Tsurugi sitting room, loudly calling out the customary Japanese phrase to announce his entry. “ _Ojama shimasu!_ ”

“Ah, Adrien!” Mrs. Tsurugi’s voice came from the sofa. The room was furnished with western pieces in a minimalistic style and a light, neutral color palette reminiscent of Japanese gardens. She removed her earbud headphones and set aside the tray she was using to catch wood shavings, picking up her smartphone to pause the audiobook she was listening to. The air carried the subtle scent of an earthy incense, though he couldn’t see any burning. “Come in.”

Adrien stepped inside and greeted her with a polite bow. Even though she couldn’t see him, her hearing was so sharp that he knew she would sense the gesture. “How are you, Tsurugi-san?”

“I’m very well—thank you, Adrien. And you?”

“Excellent, thank you.” He leaned forward to inspect her woodwork. “May I?”

“Go ahead.”

He picked up the half-finished sculpture, about the size of a pear. It was two koi intertwined in a double-helix, one facing upward and the other facing down, with the details in varying degrees of completion. Adrien ran his thumb over the intricate texture of the scales that was already starting to emerge. “This is exquisite.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Kagami is wrapping up her class. You are welcome to go in and watch, if you want.”

Adrien set down the sculpture, thanked her, and crossed the room into the inner hallway that led to the dojo.

The wide, paneless window overlooking the dojo revealed Kagami correcting one of her kendo students’ posture. There were five of them, children in their early teens, holding their bamboo _shinai_ over their heads in a ready-to-strike stance. What was it called again? _Chudan…_? No, _jodan-no-kamae_. Not wanting to be too conspicuous, Adrien leaned his elbows on the window frame to watch from the hall.

Kagami stepped back, inspecting the students with a critical eye for several seconds before calling out, “ _Hai!_ ”

With a loud yell, the students brought down their _shinai_ in a strike.

Kagami nodded. “Very good. _Rei._ ”

The students straightened, folded the _shinai_ at their sides and bowed, mirroring Kagami.

“You are dismissed.” When the students relaxed, and a low chatter started among them, Kagami smiled, her formal composure loosening. “Well done today. See you next week.”

As the students removed their helmets and gloves, gathered their belongings, and filed out, Adrien slipped into the dojo and greeted Kagami with a kiss on the cheek. “I love watching you teach,” he murmured in her ear.

Her eyes twinkled up at him, a faint blush dusting her freckled cheeks. “You’re early. Give me some time to change… why don’t you wait in the sitting room? There’s cold _mugicha_ on the table if you want.”

Adrien nodded as she exited the dojo through a different door, toward her room. He went back to the sitting room, poured himself a glass of barley tea, and made light conversation with her mother until Kagami appeared in the doorway, dressed in a red silk blouse and off-white fitted pants cropped at the ankle. “Ready to go?”

After giving Kagami’s mother their regards, they slipped on their shoes at the foyer and took their leave.

—

“So, I saw Marinette the other day.”

“Oh?” Kagami looked up at him. “Don’t you see her often…? She still works at Gabriel, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, she’s an intern.” Adrien hooked his arm in Kagami’s comfortably as they walked. “I don’t actually see her much, though. She’s always in the studio, and I usually only meet with the head designers.”

“Ah. So, what about her?” Kagami prompted.

Adrien shrugged. “We used to be good friends in high school, so I invited her out to coffee sometime to catch up. Just as friends, obviously. I didn’t think you’d mind, but I wanted to check if you were okay with that.”

Kagami pursed her lips, and Adrien’s mood soured with the premonition that he wouldn’t like her response.

“Adrien, it’s not that I don’t want you to see your friends.” She met his eyes solemnly. “I just want to remind you that all of Paris is watching you, and you have to consider what the media is going to say when you’re caught spending time with a girl who isn’t your girlfriend.”

Adrien furrowed his brow. “Am I not allowed to have a female friend?”

“I didn’t say that,” Kagami said cautiously, but the look she gave him implied that was exactly what she meant.

“Okay, so maybe not in public.”

“Do you think it will look any better if the media catches on to you having female visitors to your flat?”

Suddenly, Adrien felt like he couldn’t breathe. “The media this, the media that,” Adrien snapped bitterly, lowering his voice so passersby wouldn’t hear them having an argument. “Do I have to live in fear of the media for the rest of my life? Shouldn’t I be free to see the people I care about?”

They had arrived at the restaurant—Adrien pulled open the door with a tinkle and held it for Kagami, then followed her inside. They were greeted by a hostess, who led them to a booth. Kagami held her response until she had left them alone.

“The media is nothing to be _afraid_ of—you just need to consider your actions carefully. Living without regard to the public eye is not a matter of _courage,_ Adrien. It’s _recklessness._ ”

Adrien scowled.

“You’re a public figure, Adrien. Whether you like it or not, your life is like a game of chess,” Kagami stated matter-of-factly.

Adrien knew, and he hated it. “Is there any way I can opt out of this life?”

Kagami gave him a look.

“Can we move to a distant island?”

“Adrien. You need to learn how to accept the way things are.”

He sighed.

Before they had even ordered their food, a girl with straight, honey-brown hair slightly past the shoulder appeared at their booth, looking flustered with a smartphone in her hand.

Kagami raised her eyebrow at the unexpected interruption, while Adrien gave her a bemused smile and asked, “Can we help you?”

“Adrien Agreste!” The girl squeaked. She had to be sixteen, at most.

“Yes, that’s me…?”

“I’m a fashion blogger! Melody Marcel. Do you mind confirming for the public if you and Miss Tsurugi are officially together? Everyone is dying to know!”

Adrien and Kagami exchanged a glance. Hers seemed to say, ‘See? I told you.’ He sighed. The news was going to get out somehow, may as well help this teenage blogger by letting her be the first to publish it.

“Yes, we are,” he confirmed.

“Ohmygawd! That’s so cute. I’m so happy for you two,” Melody gushed, and raised her smartphone. “Do you mind if I take a photo?”

Adrien shrugged. “Sure.” The table between him and Kagami didn’t allow them to make any intimate poses, so he took her hand and kissed it for the camera.

Melody squealed in glee once she had taken the photo. Then, pushing her luck, she piped up again, “Could we take a selfie?”

“Of course.” Adrien smiled warmly before catching Kagami’s unamused look. “What?”

Kagami shook her head, signaling now was not the time. She put on a smile for Melody and took the phone from her as she slid into the booth beside Adrien. She snapped a shot and handed the phone back to the blogger, whose face broke out into a huge grin.

“Thank you, thank you so much! You can find my blog at FashionPulse.com!”

Adrien waved kindly as she left. The girl reminded him of Alya following Ladybug and Cat Noir around during her LadyBlogging days—but the LadyBlog hadn’t been updated in about two years since her journalism career had begun taking off. He felt a pang of nostalgia. It felt good to help a young girl out, anyway.

When he turned back to Kagami, she was wearing a deadpan expression, practically oozing, ‘See? I’m right.’

Adrien sighed heavily, deflating. “Okay. I get it.” His mind strayed back to his friends. “Could we at least invite her for dinner sometime? Alya and Nino, too. I haven’t seen them in forever.”

Kagami’s face softened. “I suppose that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Awesome!” Adrien grinned. “Thank you.”

Kagami peered up at him, seeming happy that he was happy. It was a moment before she spoke again. “Next time, you don’t have to agree to everything people ask you for. If you really don’t want the media following you around, you need to send them the clear message that you don’t want them intruding on your personal life.”

Adrien drummed his fingers on the table. “She was just a teenager blogger, Kagami. I wanted to help her out.”

Kagami shrugged as if Adrien were a lost cause. “Okay, Adrien—do what you like. I’m just trying to help you guide your life the way _you_ want it to go, but you don’t have to listen to my advice.”

“It was just this once.” Adrien peered over to the window, at the outdoor seating, envying the way diners could enjoy a night out without worrying about who could see them and how to act. He wished he could carefreely sit out there instead of having to partially hide in a booth.

Kagami tugged at his fingers. “Let’s just forget it and enjoy the evening, shall we?”

He nodded, pushing his troubled thoughts to the back of his mind. Let them get candids, or say whatever—this was Kagami, whom the media had already been circulating rumors about for months, if not years. There was nothing to be said that hadn’t already been said. She was safe to be around.

So for now, he’d just focus on the two of them in this restaurant and do his best to be content.

—

When Adrien returned to his flat that evening, the first thing he did was collapse on his bed face-down with a frustrated shriek.

“Hey, don’t flatten me!” Plagg wailed indignantly, zooming out of his shirt pocket, which was now pressed against the bed. He pulled on strands of Adrien’s hair. “… What? What’s going on, kid?”

“I hate my life!” he moaned.

“Oh yeah, a billionaire with a pretty girlfriend, your life sucks!” Plagg mocked.

“I'm not a billionaire! And I’m sick of walking on eggshells and having the ‘public’ watch my every move!” he wailed. “Why couldn’t I have been born as a normal person with a normal family? Let someone else have my money and my pretty face, I don’t want it!”

“So melodramatic,” Plagg said, settling on his shoulder. “I doubt you could part with your pretty face.”

Adrien lay in silence, one hand knotting his hair in frustration. “...Okay, I’d keep my face,” he conceded. “Kagami would probably dump me if I looked like an average Joe.” He meant it as a joke, but something about the thought rang painfully true. Was it true? He groaned and shoved his face into a pillow, feeling a dark mood claw at him.

“You know who doesn’t have to walk on eggshells?” Plagg tempted in a singsong voice.

Adrien sat bolt upright as realization struck. “Chat Noir!” Without hesitation, called out, “Plagg, transform me!”

Emerging onto his balcony and pole vaulting onto the roof, gratitude flooded his chest. The next meeting with Ladybug wasn’t for another couple of days, but he needed this now. The anonymity, the freedom, the wind in his hair. If he didn’t have the miraculous, he’d probably end up in a mental asylum.

For now, Paris was his playground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thanks for reading today's chapter! Thoughts so far? I wasn't sure what type of job to give Kagami, but since she spends so much time training in canon, it seemed befitting for her to teach. Since she seems to practice kendo and archery as well as fencing, I figured it would make sense for her to teach the Japanese arts in France since there are already many fencing teachers. In terms of fencing, she would mainly compete and hone her own skills rather than teach. What do you think?
> 
> Guess what's going to happen in the next chapter?
> 
> \---
> 
>  **Japanese glossary:**  
>  _shoji_ \- paper door  
>  _ojama shimasu_ \- literally "I'm intruding!" - you say it when you are entering someone else's room  
>  _shinai_ \- bamboo weapon used for kendo (the way of the sword)  
>  _chudan-no-kamae_ \- middle level stance in kendo  
>  _jodan-no-kamae_ \- high level stance in kendo, sword over head  
>  _hai_ \- literally means yes, but in this case used to initiate the move  
>  _rei_ \- bow  
>  _mugicha_ \- barley tea
> 
> Other notes:  
> -I preserved Adrien and Gabriel calling Mrs. Tsurugi "Tsurugi-san" even though it annoys me a little to mix languages, since that's how they refer to her in the show, and in my experience Japanese people appreciate it when you use Japanese honorifics even when speaking English or another language.  
> -The Japanese words in the kendo lesson are because commands, stances etc. would be taught using the Japanese words.


	7. Branch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien escapes into his superhero persona.

Chat Noir ran along the rooftops on all fours, using his staff only to vault from one building to the next. He didn’t know or care where he was going—Paris’ visible landmarks were enough to orient himself once he was ready to go back.

It was almost nine in the evening, and the sun was slanting, but the city was still suffused in golden light. Passing the restaurant where he and Kagami had eaten just a couple hours ago, he spied the same waitress who had served them still on her shift, taking an order from an outdoor table. She looked tired and a bit frazzled.

Seeing the opportunity to improve someone’s day, Chat Noir swiped a peony from a random window’s flower box and hopped to the ground. As the waitress pocketed her tiny pad of paper and turned to go back inside, he caught up to her and presented the peony.

She looked shocked and starstruck, turning to search her surroundings for the reason Chat Noir was paying her a visit.

“This is for you, mademoiselle. I’ve been to this restaurant before, and I recognized you,” Chat Noir confessed honestly. “Thank you for making dinner worthwhile for my girlfriend and me.”

He threw in the last detail so she wouldn’t think he was hitting on her.

Her face brightened as she took the flower from his claws.

“Ah, there it is,” Chat Noir grinned cheerfully, twirling his staff in one hand. “I was hoping to see that smile _bloom_ on your face.”

The girl giggled and tucked the peony’s stem into her apron. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”

He leaned into her ear to whisper. “Oh, and I trust you to keep it a secret that Chat Noir is seeing someone. Keep smiling, mademoiselle!” Waving goodbye, Chat Noir went on his way, smirking at the dumbstruck expressions of the restaurant’s patrons.

Hanging a left at the Arc du Triomphe, he followed the broad avenue of the Champs Élysées in the general direction of Collège Françoise Dupont.

Even though it felt good to be out and about, and to see Parisians milling from place to place, wrapping up the loose ends of their days, Chat Noir couldn’t help but feel lonely.

He couldn’t seem to escape this situation—the mask, the façade. No matter where he went or what he did, the curtain separating him from the world seemed to follow him around.

None of these people knew anything about him, and it was difficult to engage people in conversation when they were too blinded by his mask not to act like fools basking in the glamour of being noticed by a superhero of modern legend. Not much different from being Adrien, just a lot more fun when he could do parkour all over the city.

Still, it was nice to make people smile, so there was that.

Landing on a spire of Notre Dame, Cat Noir took a moment to scan the city. He’d made it quite some distance from his neighborhood in the 8th arrondissement, by the Parc Monceau. The lazy crawl of his eyes across the surroundings came to a halt when he saw a sight that made his chest warm.

He couldn’t be sure it was her. She was like a speck across the narrow channel of Seine separating the two islands, on the neighboring Île Saint-Louis, but that loose white blouse with oversized black-inked polka dots, paired with persimmon-colored straight-leg pants that contrasted sharply with the neutral colors and green of the balcony garden, looked strikingly familiar. He could have sworn he’d seen her wear that outfit to the office.

He extended his staff into the water and used it to pole vault across to the other island, landing in a tree near the balcony.

Now that he had a clear view, his suspicions were confirmed. It was indeed her. Her shoulder-length hair had been swept into a loose bun that was already starting to fall out of the claw clip. One knee pulled to her chest, she leaned over a round wooden table, cutting magazine clippings, blissfully unaware that she was being watched.

One sturdy branch of the tree he was sitting in extended toward her balcony, so he slunk across it on all fours, feeling his perch sway in the wind.

“I’m surprised to see the princess in a different tower,” Chat Noir called out softly, trying not to startle her.

It didn’t work. Marinette screeched and hurled the scissors at him, which he thankfully caught deftly between thumb and forefinger. He tutted as he used the branch as a bridge to Marinette’s balcony. “Trying to put my eye out, Princess? How can I protect Paris blind?”

“Chat Noir!” Looking horrified, Marinette leaned over the balcony rail toward him. The sudden movement had made her precariously lodged claw clip fall out, and her loose hair brushed her shoulders, slightly wavy from the previous style. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” he reassured. “Care for some company?”

Marinette moved aside, making space for him to land, and he leapt the short distance between the branch and her balcony.

“Did you pick this apartment in hopes of welcoming me someday?” he joked.

“Keep on dreaming, Minou. My balcony was my thinking place, growing up, and I got used to having one to retreat to when I was feeling introspective. So a cute balcony was an important condition when I was looking for my own place.”

It was refreshing the way Marinette talked to him like a normal person, not like she was speaking with a celebrity and watching every word that came out of her mouth. He had occasionally interacted with her or pulled her out of danger during an akuma fight, but nothing more than he had done to countless other citizens in the past. Judging from the way she easily spoke with Jagged Stone and even his father, Chat Noir supposed Marinette was just tough to intimidate. A woman with nerves of steel.

He picked up her claw clip, which had fallen to the ground, and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed, and he saw that her hands were smudged with colored ink, unadorned with nail polish. Honest, laboring hands.

“This one’s an upgrade. I like what you’ve done with it,” he praised, looking around. The balcony was larger than the one over her parents’ bakery, extending out from the relatively spacious wedge by the French doors that led into the apartment, in a narrow bridge-like protrusion. She had lined the perimeter with a variety of plants, mostly low flower beds and greens that came up to the level of the rail, but the vines and small trees next to the building’s exterior had begun to grow up the walls. She had strung lights from the roof of the building down to the balcony rails, and the golden glow blended with the violet hues of impending dusk. The overall effect looked inviting, comfortable and fresh, and gave her balcony an intimate feel.

“Thanks.” Marinette went back to her table, which, on closer inspection, Chat Noir realized was varnished bamboo.

“What are you doing with all of that, Princess?” he asked, peering at the clippings that littered the table, held down by several smooth, grey rocks. A few pens and alcohol markers lay in a messy pile near her elbow.

Marinette held up her sketchbook, into which she had already taped several clippings. Beside them were a few sketched mannequins in outfits that pulled from the color palette. “Just working on my inspiration book.”

Chat Noir snorted. “Like The Collector.”

Marinette gasped in mock offense. “You’re comparing me to an _akuma?_ ”

“You remember that?” Chat Noir was surprised she understood the reference.

“Well, of course! Gabriel Agreste was my idol, so I paid attention to him.” She broke off another piece of tape and fastened another clipping to the page.

Chat Noir marveled at how immaculate the layout looked, combining the magazine clippings with her fluid sketches and tiny, font-like handwriting. “You know, Princess, you could publish this sketchbook exactly as it is and people would buy it.”

“As if I’d do that,” Marinette retorted quickly. “This is a closely guarded book of Marinette Dupain-Cheng secrets. You better not leak my designs, Chat Noir. I fully intend on these designs hitting the market. Some of them, anyway.”

Chat Noir fought a huge grin that threatened to overtake his face. He was delighted that she was making it in their industry. He wondered if he’d get to wear any of her designs—but he couldn’t be vocal about his excitement yet.

“I guess you don’t have these layouts on Instagram somewhere then, do you?”

“Not these, but I do have an Instagram,” she admitted. “Not gonna tell you my handle, though. I challenge you to find it.”

“Challenge accepted.” He winked.

“So, Chat Noir,” Marinette looked up. “Are you just dropping by to say hello, or…?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, standing awkwardly by the table, suddenly feeling like he was intruding on Marinette’s alone-time. His father hated having someone hover over his shoulder as he designed. Maybe he was bothering Marinette. “It was just nice to see a familiar face, but I can get going if you’re busy.”

Marinette shrugged, an easy smile tugging at her lips. “I’m not really busy, just passing time. I can get a little obsessive when it comes to designing, so a distraction is always welcome if you wanted to stay a while.”

Since Hawkmoth wasn’t active and today wasn’t their day to meet, Marinette knew Chat Noir had no practical reason to be in the suit, so his presence on her balcony right now probably meant he was lonely.

Chat Noir nodded. “Thanks, Princess.”

“I can’t believe you’re _still_ calling me that,” Marinette said, pushing one of the chairs out for him with her foot.

He took a seat, laying one arm over the other on the table, careful not to disturb her clippings. “We always seem to meet on a balcony. Should I call you Juliet instead?”

This time, she kicked his boot lightly. “Too far, Chat.”

He picked up one of the alcohol markers. “Why do you artists like these so much? What’s so special about them?”

Marinette ripped out a page of her sketchbook. He flinched and started to protest, but she waved off his concern and dropped the sheet in front of him. “The ink mixes together really well—give it a try. And I’m a designer, not an artist.”

“What’s the difference?” Chat Noir uncapped a light green slab marker and drew a thick line a couple inches long.

“Artists create to express themselves. Designers create for others.”

“Isn’t there some art in design, too?” He drew another line beside the first in a dark, forest green, and watched as the ink bled between the two strips of color in a gradient effect. “Wow, that’s really cool.”

“Isn’t it? It’s kind of like watercolor painting!” Marinette’s eyes twinkled with enthusiasm. “And yeah, you’re right. There’s overlap, of course, kind of like a yin-yang. But I don’t consider myself to be an artist. I want people to _wear_ and _use_ what I design. It’s not just to get some idea into the world, which I think is where a lot of people fall short in the fashion industry. Too conceptual.”

Chat Noir nodded. “I get what you mean.” A lot of the outfits he saw on the runway were just plain ridiculous, as if the designers were trying to push the line of how ugly you could make something and still call it fashion.

He wished he could tell her about the line he’d seen leaked photos of just last week from another fashion house, which _literally_ made the models look like hunchbacks. He didn’t think he’d seen anything more hideous in his life. If he told her, though, she’d know that he had some connection to the fashion world.

Would that be okay, maybe? Hawkmoth already knew his identity, so what was there to hide?

“Marinette,” he said slowly, letting up on his Chat Noir swagger. A thrill ran through him when she looked up with searching eyes, probably catching on to his change of tone. “What if I were someone you actually knew? Would this be weird? Us hanging out like this, I mean?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow and turned her head to give him a sidelong glance. “Uh… no, not really? I understand the whole secret identity thing. Hawkmoth is still at large…” she trailed off, short of asking the unspoken question.

He could see the cogs turning in her brain—trying to figure out why he was asking. _‘Be careful, Chat Noir,’_ was written in her expression.

He could tell her. She would keep his secret. It didn’t really matter as much now, anyway, and he knew he could trust her. She was a loyal friend. Wouldn’t it be nice to have one person in the world know his secret?

But then, he remembered the way she had backed off him when she remembered him dating Kagami, and the way she kept her guard up around him, since he was her boss’s son. The way they were now was good. Two friends hanging out, doing nothing, expecting nothing.

No, he couldn’t tell her. Let Chat Noir remain his sanctuary. Chat Noir wasn’t Adrien. He wasn’t anyone.

“Ah, don’t worry, Princess!” He waved both hands in an attempt to allay the worry and suspicion that was etched into her face. “It’s just, there’s someone I know in real life that I tend to see a lot as Chat Noir, and I, uh, just wondered if it was weird of me not to tell her. I certainly feel like a creep sometimes, since she doesn’t know it’s me.”

“Oh, I see.” Marinette cocked her head, looking more curious now than troubled. “She should understand you have to keep your identity under wraps. Any Parisian would.”

“I guess you’re right!” Chat Noir laughed, even though part of him throbbed with a deep, dull ache as he put on another mask over his mask. He returned the two markers he’d used to the pile and stood. “Well, Princess, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome for tonight. It was fun.” He winked and gave her a comically deep bow. “I bid you adieu, Princess.”

“Good night.” She brushed her bangs aside and waved, the golden fairy lights accentuating the curve of her cheek as she smiled. As Chat Noir leapt onto the branch that caught him with a deep swing, she called out, “You know where I live now, so feel free to come by when you’re lonely.”

He caught her eye—she was looking at him softly, with a patient expression, calm like water. She knew he was lonely.

“Good night, Princess.”

Feeling shaken from the adrenaline of almost spilling the secret he’d kept for eight years, he ran across Paris and transformed in an alley before reentering his flat.

He checked his phone reflexively as Plagg broke out of his pocket and made a beeline for the cheese cabinet. There were a few messages from board members, one from Celeste. He didn’t open them—didn’t feel like thinking about work at the moment.

Nothing from Kagami. That wasn’t too surprising. When they weren’t together, she was immersed in her activities and only texted him to make plans. He didn’t expect her to be the mushy girlfriend type with whom he’d have to argue about who should hang up first.

After a quick shower and microwaved meal, he went over the next day’s plans and puttered around the internet watching random videos until the hour grew late enough to sleep.

As he crawled into bed, he checked again for messages from Kagami, but nothing. He contemplated texting her to ask what she was doing, or say goodnight, but decided against looking needy and weak.

He lay in bed, feeling inexplicably restless.

A strange dissatisfaction gnawed at him, though he couldn’t find anything in his life to complain about.

It was at least another hour before he finally drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there the Marichat begins. What do you think so far?


	8. Hostility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Adrien wanted was to have his friends over for dinner and video games, but what did he get instead? A near-disastrous night full of tension and stress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My, my, this is a long chapter... I hope you enjoy it!

Adrien knocked on the door of Gabriel’s atelier as he came in—just a courtesy, as his father was already expecting him.   
  
“Ah, Adrien. Good evening. Come over here.”   
  
Adrien came, and Gabriel handed him a stack of papers. Sheet music. He frowned. “What’s this, Father?”   
  
“Music.”   
  
“I can see that.” Adrien arched an eyebrow. “Why are you giving it to me?”   
  
“Audrey Bourgeois RSVPed to your little soirée tomorrow night. I promised her a performance—she loves Prokofiev.”   
  
“Wait. Rewind. Audrey Bourgeois?!”   
  
“Did I stutter?”   
  
Adrien shook his head, incredulous. “What soirée are you talking about? Father, I told you I was having friends over for dinner. Are we talking about the same thing?”

One look at his father’s face gave him the sinking feeling that yes, they were talking about the same thing, and no, Adrien’s plans weren’t going to work out.

“Father… why in the world would you invite  _ her? _ ”   
  
“Adrien.” Gabriel cleared his throat and peered down his glasses at Adrien, making him feel like he was twelve again. He continued in a patient tone. “You’re in a prominent position at the company now, and your responsibility will only grow. You need to start getting personally acquainted with the important people in the industry. Audrey is in town for a week, so I thought it would be the perfect opportunity.”

Adrien nodded morosely.

“Ah, and Tsurugi-san will be there, too, of course—she appreciates music. Why don’t we expand the repertoire? How about Bach and Ravel?”   
  
Adrien took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He hadn’t touched Bach and Ravel in months and wasn’t sure he could whip the pieces into shape by tomorrow. “Father, I’m not playing a concert tomorrow.”   
  
“Don’t tell me you’ve stopped practicing since you moved out?” Gabriel asked in a fatigued, disappointed tone. “You know how important it was to your mother—”   
  
“No. No, Father,” Adrien lifted his hands in a pacifying gesture. His mother was a risky topic. No choice but to lie. “Don’t worry, I practice an hour a day. It’s just… a concert? I was planning on cooking tonight—I don’t think I’ll have enough time to prepare a whole concert repertoire, too.”   
  
“Please. Don’t worry about the food.” Gabriel waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve asked Gustave to prepare a full spread. He’ll be by tomorrow at five.”   
  
“Father! I wanted to cook for my friends!” Adrien could feel his temper rising. Even at twenty-two, his father was still micromanaging his life. This was supposed to be a relaxed dinner with his high school friends, followed by video games and low-stress hanging out—and was quickly snowballing into a snobby, stiff event. He should never have mentioned his plans to his father.   
  
“You think you can serve Audrey Bourgeois your cooking?” Gabriel sneered. “She’s almost as critical of food as she is of fashion.”   
  
Adrien pursed his lips, restraining a passive aggressive comment about how the original plan didn’t involve her. “Understood, Father,” he forced out.   
  
“So, Prokofiev shouldn’t be a problem, right?” 

“No,” Adrien grumbled, letting go of the last shreds of hope for a chill evening with his friends.

“As for the rest of the pieces, if you’ve been practicing wisely, you should be able to play any of them at the drop of a hat.” Gabriel pinned Adrien with a sharp look, daring him not to meet the bar.

“Yes, Father,” Adrien replied stiffly, fully aware that the pieces were  _ not  _ ready and resigning himself to hours of practice late into the night.   
  
“I’m sure Audrey will be delighted to see Marinette. She was impressed by her before, but her recent designs are far superior to her amateur work.”   
  
Gabriel sounded proud of his intern. That was the pearl in this situation. At least Marinette might get something good out of it. Adrien nodded in resignation. He tried to convince himself that he was fine with this. So what if his plans didn’t work out? He should stop hoping to indulge in the mundane pleasures most of the world got to enjoy. “So, who’s coming? Any other surprises?”   
  
“Aside from your friends and Kagami—Nathalie and myself, Tsurugi-san, Audrey and Chloé. And of course Gustave is doing the catering.”   
  
“Chloé, too?” Adrien hadn’t seen her at all since lycée, as she had gone to London to study acting. Last he knew, she still hadn’t let go of her distaste for Marinette. He hoped the years apart would have mellowed her out.   
  
“Yes. As for the mayor, he has a function to attend—he won’t be coming.”   
  
“Alright, Father. Thank you,” Adrien said wearily. The ‘thank you’ was mostly to signal his readiness to move on from the conversation. “I’d better go and practice, then.”   
  
Gabriel nodded curtly. “See you tomorrow at six. Oh, and Adrien?”

Adrien had already stepped toward the door, and turned back. “Yes?”

“Throw in some Chopin. Your mother loved Chopin.”

He knew exactly which buttons to push. “Okay, Father,” Adrien sighed.

The things he did to keep his father happy.   
  
—

Adrien ran a swiffer over the living room floor again, feeling anxious and still a little salty from having the opportunity to cook for his friends pulled out like a rug from beneath his feet. Gustave, who was always punctual, should be arriving in exactly five minutes.

This was a lot of pressure for his first night entertaining at his own flat. He felt like the whole evening was beyond his control, and all he could do was pray that a disaster didn’t happen.

He went to the kitchen and counted the glasses for the third time, lining them up on the grey marble counter. He switched on the under-cabinet lighting to brighten the ambience.

He adjusted a fork that wasn’t perfectly perpendicular to the edge of the table.

Two more minutes.

If three minutes had passed so slowly, this evening was going to feel like an eternity.

—

“Adri-chou!” Chloé tackled Adrien as soon as the door opened, and an overpowering whiff of her expensive-smelling perfume assailed his nostrils. She was wearing a white cocktail dress with black lace trim and a yellow ochre bolero, and was perhaps a little more tan than he had last seen her.

“Hey, Chloé.” His voice was muffled against her shoulder.

“So lovely to see you!” Chloé kissed both his cheeks enthusiastically. “We have a lot of catching up to do!”

“Good to see you too, Chlo’.” Adrien gestured for her to come in, greeting Audrey politely as she entered.

The Bourgeois were the last to arrive. Kagami’s mother and Gabriel were seated in the living room armchairs, having a discussion, while Nathalie helped Gustave in the kitchen. Alya, Nino, and Marinette were sitting close on the couch, engaged in their own conversation.

Kagami was greeting the guests with Adrien. She smiled at Chloé and was about to kiss her in greeting, but Chloé brushed past without even a glance, letting her shoulder hit Kagami’s in a way that was surely intentional.

Kagami bristled. “I see you haven’t changed,” she said, just loud enough for Chloé to hear.

Adrien frowned. Why was Chloé acting so hostile, and why toward  _ Kagami _ of all people? He tried to remember if anything had happened between them to warrant Chloé’s behavior. Sure, it had been rare for Chloé  _ not  _ to clash with others before, but Adrien had hoped her bullying days were behind her.

“Don’t mind her,” Adrien whispered to Kagami, “She’s just like that to some people. Her last target was Marinette. Don’t spread this around, but my theory is that she gets jealous of people she admires.”

Kagami stiffened at the mention of Marinette, but she patted Adrien’s arm. “It’s okay. I don’t feel threatened by a snob like her.”

—

“Did you bring the sushi, sword-girl?”

Chloé’s shrill voice caught Adrien’s attention as he played the introduction of Prokofiev’s Dance of the Knights from Romeo and Juliet. He felt that the strong, menacing chords didn’t contribute anything positive to the atmosphere, but his father apparently thought Audrey Bourgeois would like it. She did seem pleased with the music—her eyes were closed blissfully as she nibbled on a pȃté-covered toast cracker.

Kagami narrowed her eyes to glare at Chloé. “Why would I bring sushi?”

“Aren’t you Japanese? Japanese people make sushi.”

Adrien’s flat wasn’t very large. It was a two-level condo with a curving staircase to the second story, which wrapped around the room more like a terrace than a separate floor. His baby grande piano was situated in the corner near the staircase, diagonally facing the couch and armchairs of the sitting area where the guests were lounging presently. The kitchen and dining table were on the far end. The entire space was about the size of his old room at the Agreste mansion, and the open layout made sound travel easily. He could hear every word of the exchange, and was highly tempted to stop playing and intervene.

“I am not a sushi chef,” Kagami answered coolly.

“Oh? You can’t even make sushi? What are you good for, then?”

Adrien winced at Chloé’s tasteless insults. He watched as Kagami leaned forward into Chloé’s personal space, nose-to-nose with her, and said something in a low voice that seemed to anger the blonde.

“What do  _ you  _ know? I’ve known Adri-chou much longer than you have!” she huffed.

“Excuse me,” Marinette stood up and stepped between the two other girls, “Chloé, aren’t you overdoing it? Shouldn’t we keep things civil in consideration of our host?”

Adrien could tell she was fuming but attempting to remain polite.

“Can’t you see I’m on your side, Dupain-Cheng?” Chloé rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“My… side? What are you talking about? I’m not even involved!” Marinette held up her hands and took a step back.

Kagami glared at both girls. “I wasn’t aware there was a battle going on.”

“There isn’t,” Marinette insisted placatingly, giving Chloé a warning look. “Chloé is just being dramatic.”

Feeling sorry that Marinette had taken it upon herself to keep the peace, Adrien stood up, abandoning Prokofiev mid-cadence, and crossed the room, taking Chloé by the arm. He dragged her to the second story terrace, muttering, “Come with me for a moment.” Even if she wasn’t the only one responsible for the rising tension in the room, she was certainly the catalyst.

“What was that for, Adri-chou?” Chloé whined playfully once he had let her go and was facing her with his arms crossed. “I was trying to help you.”

Adrien was flabbergasted. “How was that in any way  _ helping?  _ I don’t know what your beef with Kagami is, but please be civil. Your comments are completely out of line, and letting Marinette get involved? It’s all just going to snowball. You know better than that, Chloé.”

“It’s just…” Chloé let out an irritated puff of air. “I don’t like her, and I don’t approve of you dating her.”

Adrien gaped at her in exasperation. “Since when have I needed your approval to date someone? What do you even  _ know  _ about my love life? I haven’t even seen you in  _ four  _ years.”

“Oh, Adri-chou, puh-lease, you’re practically my  _ brother! _ Four years couldn’t change us.” She flipped her hair behind her shoulder. “I don’t want her to ruin you, that’s all.”

“‘Ruin’ me?” Adrien repeated. “What in the world are you talking about, Chloé?”

Chloé cupped Adrien’s cheeks, causing him to flinch from the unwanted contact. “You’re so  _ pure, _ Adri-chou. She’s just a snobby, manipulative little—”

Adrien clamped a hand over her mouth, frustration rising. “Uh uh. Stop it. You don’t get to talk like that in  _ my  _ flat about  _ my  _ girlfriend. We’re going to go back down the stairs, and you’re going to act polite until it’s time for you and your mother to leave.”

Just then, footsteps on the stairs signaled the arrival of Gabriel Agreste, looking highly displeased. “Adrien, you’ve left your guests hanging, and the silence is getting awkward. Please return to your station.”

The silence was the least of Adrien’s worries. “Yes, Father, I’m sorry,” he forced out through grit teeth. He shot Chloé a stern look, and they all headed back down the stairs.

When he resumed the Dance of the Knights, he pounded the keys with gusto, finding that the piece fit his mood perfectly now.

—

Once everyone had made their way to the dining table, Adrien brought the Bach Partita he was playing to a close and joined the table. He had hoped to sit next to Nino for a chance to catch up—since he’d been forced to play all throughout the  _ aperitifs, _ he hadn’t gotten a chance to exchange much more than a greeting with him and Alya when they first came in. Unfortunately, the only open seat was in the corner beside Kagami, who was flanked by her mother, across from Audrey, Chloé, and Marinette.

“You know, Marinette, you really are extraordinary.” Audrey took a small bite of her seared tuna and chewed daintily before continuing, leaning over Chloé to speak to Marinette. While everyone was mingling in the living room, she had flipped through the young designer’s portfolio, which included photos from the latest Gabriel runway. “I’d like to herald you in  _ Style Queen _ as an up-and-coming designer. With as much promise as you’re showing, I’m  _ positive  _ your career will be a success, and I want  _ Style Queen _ to be your debut before the public eye.”

Marinette’s mouth made an ‘o’ of surprise. “T-that would be an honor. Thank you.”

“Of  _ course  _ you’ll show off some of her work, right?” Chloé piped up loudly. “Mom, you should have Adrien model!”

Adrien shook his head wordlessly across the table, trying to catch her eye.

“And Dupain-Cheng can model the female pieces!” she continued.

Adrien nearly choked on the Pinot Noir he had just sipped.

“I’m not a model,” Marinette denied quickly.

“I don’t think so, Chloé,” Adrien said firmly, wishing she would drop the subject.

“Fine!” Chloé flipped her hair. “If you don’t want to do it with Marinette, then  _ I’ll  _ do it.”

Adrien noticed Kagami glaring daggers at Chloé from across the table and realized Chloé was just trying to provoke her. Or… what was she trying to do, exactly? He narrowed his eyes at Chloé. “I don’t think I should do it at all,” he said pointedly. “You know I’ve stepped away from modeling.”

“That’s a shame,” Chloé sighed dramatically. “With that face and body, it’s an injustice to the public.”

“He’s not just a pretty face, Chloé,” Kagami spat in his defense.

“Speaking of modeling, Adrien,” Gabriel interjected, from Audrey’s other side. The topic had drawn his attention away from whatever he had been discussing with Mrs. Tsurugi. “It seems like you’re getting enough of a handle on your workload that you have free time to travel. I was thinking it was time to bring you back in front of the camera.”

Adrien groaned internally. He knew it had been a mistake to take two trips within the same month.

“That would be wonderful!” Chloé squealed.

_ No, no, no, _ Adrien thought, horrified that the conversation had taken a turn down this road. Getting out of modeling in the first place had been a hard-won battle. “Why don’t we discuss it  _ later, _ Father?”

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to model for Marinette’s feature, Adrien,” Audrey agreed.

“It would give Marinette a lot of exposure,” Gabriel hummed in agreement. “You always were well-loved by the public.”

Adrien glanced at Marinette, who was looking down at her plate humbly, seeming uncomfortable to be the center of attention. He wanted to help her, but he didn’t want to go back to modeling. “I’ll think about it.” He stood up, feeling uneasy. “Shall I play a few more pieces?”

“Finish your meal, first,” Gabriel ordered.

Indignation rose in Adrien at being addressed like a child, but he clenched his teeth and sat back down obediently. 

—

“To celebrate old times,” Chloé announced, “I’ve decided to give everyone in our old collège homeroom free tickets to the  _ The Beauty and the Beast _ showing at the amphitheater this autumn. I’m playing Belle, so you better not miss it.”

“That’s generous of you, Chloé,” Audrey remarked.

“Sorry, Kagami, you weren’t in our class,” Chloé cooed in mock sympathy, turning her nose up.

Adrien kicked her under the table.

“Ow, what was that for, Adri-chou?”

He glared at her. “Be nice, Chloé.”

“It’s fine,” Kagami retorted, cold as ice, “I don’t need to see this brat soaking up attention.”

“Don’t talk to my daughter that way,” Audrey snapped. “I’ll have you thrown out!”

“With all due respect, Madame Bourgeois, this is my flat,” Adrien seethed, “and no one is leaving before dessert.”

Audrey’s face reddened. Adrien braced himself for an outburst, and decided to pull out an old card from his childhood. He eased his face into a charming smile, and to his intense relief, watched her melt.

When Gustave started serving the boeuf bourguignon, Adrien got up to help, eager for an escape.

As he brought Alya her bowl, she pulled his wrist gently, indicating for him to lean in, and whispered in his ear. “Is Chloé giving you trouble? Want me to deal with her?”

“No, no,” Adrien answered hurriedly. He didn’t want to find out what ‘dealing with her’ meant. One thing was clear: it definitely would  _ not  _ help the atmosphere for Alya to get involved.“Sorry about all this. This is  _ not  _ what I intended when I invited you guys for dinner.”

Alya shot him a sympathetic look and let him go. “Just wait,” she mouthed.

He finished his main course quickly and excused himself, practically running to the piano.

—

As the desserts were being served, Nino came over and sat beside him on the bench. “Keep playing, dude, just wanna let you know I brought a mix for the after party.”

_ After party?  _ Without pausing the Chopin Nocturne, Adrien glanced at his friend in shocked surprise, in time to catch his conspiratorial wink.

“Try the  _ wagashi _ , dude,” Nino continued. “There’s a pretty one waiting for you when you finish this piece. And Marinette brought a mille feuille—we’re waiting for you before we cut it.”

“Thanks, bro, you’re the best.” Adrien smiled gratefully at his friend.

—

The atmosphere settled into something surprisingly cordial by the time coffee was served. The sweets seemed to soften everyone’s disposition. The wine probably helped, too. Alya, Marinette, Nino, and Kagami were swapping university stories together, and the older generation was seated at the table, deep in hushed conversation. Adrien wondered if he should be worried about what they were discussing, but most of all, he was relieved that the sense of impending disaster had died down. Gustave was washing his serving dishes in the kitchen.

Though it wasn’t on the program, Adrien had decided to play Joe Hisaishi to help keep tensions at bay while the evening was unwinding. Chloé slipped into the bench beside him during Summer from Kikujiro no Natsu. She was surprisingly quiet.

“So you don’t hate Marinette anymore,” Adrien observed. He knew these pieces so well, he could easily hold a conversation while continuing to play. “That’s a pleasant surprise. I was a little worried about you two being in the same room together.”

“Let’s just say I discovered hidden aspects of her that made me realize she’s not as bad as I thought.”

“I’m glad.” Adrien glanced aside at Chloé. “You need to tone it down with Kagami, though.”

“What do you mean?” Chloé put a hand to her chest in feigned indignation. “I stopped after you told me to.”

“Please, Chloé. The thing about the tickets was just an excuse to intentionally isolate her. And you think I didn’t know what you were doing with that whole modeling-with-Marinette scheme? What was up with that, anyway?”

Chloé chose not to respond to Adrien pointing out her jabs at Kagami. Her expression turned sly as she zeroed in on the topic of Marinette. “Don’t tell me you didn’t have at least a  _ tiny  _ crush on her.”

“What?! What are you talking about?”

“You’ve had a soft spot for her since collège.”

Adrien felt his ears tingle with heat, and he fumbled a note. “I have not. She’s just a good friend, that’s all. I’m dating Kagami, Chloé, stop trying to stir up trouble.”

Chloé leaned in to whisper coquettishly in his ear. “You don’t find Marinette pretty? She’s gotten even cuter since collège.”

The heat spread to Adrien’s face, and he accidentally played the same phrase twice. “That’s beside the point,” he hissed. “Why do you care so much about Marinette all of a sudden?”

“No reason!” Chloé shrugged and flipped her hair. “I’ve decided Marinette is pretty cool after all. If I were you, I would have asked her out instead!”

“Well, you’re not me,” Adrien huffed. “You’re so weird, Chloé. I’m happy with Kagami, so leave me alone.”

“Suit yourself, Adri-chou.” Chloé smirked and got up. “You’re blushing, by the way.” 

Adrien took a hand off the piano to shove her away. “Stop consorting with the entertainer and go enjoy the party.”

—

Finally. Finally, Adrien could relax. Everyone but Alya, Nino, and Marinette had left—Kagami had gone to bring her mother home, but would be back in about ten minutes.

Alya and Marinette were facing off in  _ Just Dance, _ their scores neck-to-neck. While it looked effortless for Alya, Marinette’s show of ridiculously exaggerated moves made it any wonder how she was managing to keep her score.

Adrien collapsed onto the couch beside Nino, lo-fi jazzhop beats soothing his overstimulated nerves. It was almost 11 p.m., but he was determined to enjoy some downtime with his friends if it was the last thing he did. “Nino, you are the best. Friend. Ever,” he said in a haggard voice.

Nino hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. “Missed you, Mr. Bigshot Agreste.”

“Ugh,” Adrien grunted, closing his eyes. “Let’s hang out more. And not tell my father.”

“I’ll always make time for you, bro.” Nino’s voice was warm and sincere.

Adrien felt a stab of guilt and resolved to make more time to keep in touch with his friends. “How are you and Alya?”

“We’re great, dude. I’m thinking of popping the question.”

Adrien sat up, laughing with glee. “Seriously? It’s about time.”

Nino shrugged, face stretched in an infectious grin. “I’m just trying to figure out how. Can’t be anything short of epic with Alya.”

“She’ll be happy no matter how you do it, bro,” Adrien reassured him.

The song ended, and Alya dragged Nino onto the floor. Instead of joining Adrien on the couch, Marinette hesitated before waving for him to follow her. He did so, quizzically.

“Sorry,” she said once she had led him into the kitchen area. She leaned against the counter, looking troubled. “I don’t mean to bring down the mood, but, your father…”

Adrien’s nerves spiked. “What about him?”

Marinette bit her lip, looking to the side. “He approved a whole line by one of the other interns yesterday, but there were a whole bunch of flaws in the patterns and materials that she hadn’t fixed. I pointed them out during the review, and Camille tried to bring it up to your father, but he brushed her off.”

Adrien knit his brows. “Is this the first time this has happened?”

Marinette was silent for a moment before answering tentatively, “No. He’s been letting a lot of things slide lately.”

Adrien rubbed his chin. His father was falling apart. He’d more than noticed signs, too. He was almost certain that the manufacturing errors Gabriel had been so distraught over lately were partly his own fault—he’d probably approved the material list without reviewing it thoroughly. “I’ll talk to him,” he muttered. “Thanks for bringing it up.”

“Of course,” Marinette said, concern evident in her eyes. “Your father has done so much for me. I can’t just stand by and let these mistakes happen.”

Adrien put a hand on Marinette’s arm and smiled at her. She went far beyond her role—she was a great friend to him and his father. “I’m so glad to have someone like you at the company,” he said, meaning it from the bottom of his heart. “Just let me know if you see anything else, okay? Don’t be afraid to tell me anything. My father’s—”

Just then, the front door opened, and Kagami’s eyes locked on to Marinette and Adrien like a magnet. Adrien dropped his hand hastily. They hadn’t been doing anything wrong, but he felt guilty for some reason. Maybe what Chloé had said was getting to him.

Kagami crossed the room and took Adrien by the arm with suppressed ferocity, leading him to the living room area. “Come on, you promised me an Ultimate Mecha Strike match.”

“Winner plays Marinette,” Adrien grinned, regretful that the conversation had been cut short and pretending not to notice the tension in the air. This was an evening with friends—it was supposed to be fun and light-hearted. If he acted light-hearted, maybe it would rub off on Kagami. “She’s a beast at Ultimate Mecha Strike.”

Kagami glared at him, and his insides withered.

He let her win the match, thinking the sight of him playing against Marinette would probably just add fuel to the fire. A shame, since he’d been practicing and thought he’d finally gotten good enough to beat her. At this rate, he’d never be able to put that theory to the test.

—

Once everyone else had left, Adrien was left with Kagami on the couch, starting a Korean drama that Kagami wanted to see.

“Sorry about Chloé,” Adrien apologized, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

Kagami settled against him. “It’s fine. Chloé’s never liked me, and frankly I don’t care.”

“I didn’t know that,” Adrien admitted. “Sorry. I wouldn’t have let her come if I had known you didn’t get along.”

“Did you have any control?” Kagami asked bitterly. At Adrien’s sad expression, she relented. “Sorry, I know it wasn’t your fault. It’s fine. We got through the night, that’s all that matters.”

Adrien sighed, but one more thing troubled him. “Why did you pull me away from Marinette? We were in the middle of a serious conversation, actually.”

Kagami’s bangs overshadowed her eyes, but Adrien could see a pout on her lips. “About what?”

“It was work-related.”

“Oh. Really?” Kagami twisted to peek at him, and he noticed she was blushing.

Adrien blinked, then grinned at this discovery. “Don’t tell me you were jealous.”

“I was not jealous,” Kagami muttered. “You think I’d be so petty?”

Adrien’s grin widened. “You were so jealous!” He laughed and pulled her in for a tight hug. “You have nothing to worry about, tiger.”

“Tiger?” Kagami’s skeptical inquiry was muffled against his chest.

“You’re fierce, beautiful, and aloof. Like a tiger.”

“I’m not aloof,” Kagami protested.

“Face it, you are.”

“Not with you.”

Adrien kissed the top of her head. “Guess I’ve tamed you.”

They settled into watching the drama for a few minutes, releasing tension from the stressful evening.

“Weren’t you in love with her before?” Kagami suddenly asked.

“Who?”

“Marinette.”

“What?!” Adrien separated from Kagami to gape at her. “Why does everyone think I used to have a crush on Marinette?”

Kagami looked hurt at his reaction. “Other people mentioned it?—never mind, I don’t want to know. Isn’t she the one you rejected me for the first time?”

“Oh.” Pieces fell in place in Adrien’s mind. Kagami didn’t know about Ladybug, and Marinette was always around before, when he was just getting to know Kagami and talked about another girl. It was a fair misunderstanding. “No. No, it wasn’t her.”

Kagami looked confused.

Adrien pulled her back into his arms. “Look, can we not dwell on the past? Tonight was exhausting, and I just want to relax with you.”

“Okay,” Kagami acquiesced, resting her head on his chest.

Fifteen minutes into the first episode, Adrien was falling asleep.

“Adrien,” Kagami said softly, rousing him. “It’s late, and don’t you have an early meeting tomorrow? You should go to bed. I’ll leave.”

“You don’t want to stay?” Adrien mumbled, eyes flickering open.

“Stay?”

“Don’t be so shy all of a sudden. How many times have we stayed in the same hotel room together?” At Kagami’s disapproving look, Adrien made a pleading face. “Come on. Keep me company, please.”

He looked so forlorn that Kagami put a hand on his chest, leaned in and kissed him.

It was their first kiss. Butterflies erupted in Adrien’s stomach, and he threaded his fingers through the silky strands of her hair, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss.

When it started to get heated, Kagami pulled away. “Since we’re dating, we can’t do all the same things that we used to do as friends.”

Adrien looked disappointed. “Why not?”

Kagami looked incredulous. “Do I have to spell it out?”

Adrien frowned. “It kind of makes me…” he trailed off, realizing what he had been about to say. “ _ It kind of makes me reconsider dating you. I liked our friendship the way it was.” _

“Makes you what?” There was a hint of sadness in Kagami’s eyes, as if she could read his thoughts. Sometimes he felt like she could.

“Nothing.” Adrien kissed her again. He hadn’t meant that thought—it felt good to kiss her. He was just frustrated, and sleepy, and he had drunk a little wine. Random thoughts were entering his mind—that was all. “Don’t worry. I understand. You can go if you want, but you’re always welcome to stay.”

She left. Adrien took a shower and went to bed with the uncanny feeling that he had lost something, but he wasn’t sure what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Kagami's miraculous will not be the tiger, but Adrien strikes me as someone who uses nicknames out of affection, for obvious reasons, and somehow Kagami's disposition reminds me of a tiger. It seemed like a good nickname for her. :P I know, I'm cheesy.
> 
> So, what do you think?
> 
> Prokofiev's Dance of the Knights: https://youtu.be/asWU3OzOrK8  
> Joe Hisaishi's Summer from Kikujiro no Natsu - performed by the man himself! (Who here loves Joe Hisaishi?): https://youtu.be/J7or0noYfMA


	9. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien collects on a promise Kagami made to him, and has a disheartening realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some French/Japanese words are defined in the end notes, just to let you know.

“Please, Kagami? You promised.”

Kagami lunged at Adrien; he parried and riposted.

She lifted her mask. “Street festivals are for commoners.”

Adrien lifted his. “That’s the whole point!”

Kagami pursed her lips.

They both closed their masks in tandem and returned to en guarde position, ready for the next bout in their friendly face-off.

“Besides,” Adrien continued, his voice slightly distorted by the mask, “It’s the twenty-first century. There’s no distinction between ‘commoners’ and ‘nobility’ anymore. Why shouldn’t we do something fun?”

“You know that isn’t really true.” Kagami tapped Adrien’s sabre, provoking him to attack.

They clashed again, letting their conversation rest.

Yes, Adrien had to admit that a social hierarchy existed, and he was high on the ladder, but the distinction didn’t have to be so rigid. He didn’t want to consciously hold himself on a higher tier than his friends. Couldn’t he choose to do away with the gap between him and others? He’d managed to befriend fans in the past, like Wayem, and he counted that as a victory.

“You promised we’d go out and do something fun, like normal people,” Adrien pleaded. “ _Le Goût du Japon_ only lasts a week and then it’s over until next year. Today is the last day. I’ve always wanted to go!”

Kagami lunged, spearing the tip of her sabre squarely in Adrien’s chest. Her point.

“Your skills have far exceeded mine, Kagami,” Adrien said, accepting defeat. He lifted his mask.

“No, we’re still equal, you’re just unfocused today.”

“I’m at your mercy,” Adrien said with a dramatic flourish and bow.

Kagami lifted her mask and examined his face as she considered. “… Fine.”

“Fine?”

“We can go.”

“Yes! You’re the best!” Adrien cheered and, to her delighted bewilderment, tackled her in a hug.

—

“The yukata looks lovely on you,” Adrien complimented Kagami, leading her down the street that was lined with wooden food and game booths, illuminated with colored paper lanterns.

“Thank you—you don’t look bad, yourself,” she returned.

“Didn’t think I’d ever get a chance to wear this.”

Kagami was wearing a red yukata with an off-white obi, decorated with a colorful floral pattern in fresh greens, pinks, and whites that was simple at the torso and grew increasingly clustered toward the hems. The sleeves flowed gracefully to the level of her knees, and her clipped-up hair was adorned with dangling floral ornaments that echoed the flowers on her garment. Adrien’s yukata was a textured but patternless dark grey-blue with a red obi, a shade darker than the red of Kagami’s.

Her hand was hooked into the crook of Adrien’s elbow, but she hung back, as if embarrassed and loath to be caught participating in the festival.

They hadn’t taken ten paces down the street when Adrien felt a tug at his sleeve. He turned around to see two young girls beaming up at him, clutching twin magazines. They were both opened to the same page which, on closer inspection, was his interview from the previous month’s _La Mode_ magazine. “Adrien Agreste! May we have your autograph?”

He was surprised that these young girls recognized him in such an unlikely setting. Part of him had been thinking optimistically that, ever since he had moved onto managerial pursuits and left the modeling scene, teenage girls had stopped fawning over him. Either these girls were really into fashion, or he was wrong.

Adrien frowned. “I don’t normally give autographs, but…” He looked between the girls, whose faces had begun to fall in disappointment, and his resolve crumbled. “All right.”

Kagami jabbed him subtly in the side.

The girls squealed, and one of them handed him a pen.

Adrien signed his name, finding it vaguely depressing that these girls were so excited to receive his inked name. What was the meaning in it? 

He handed the magazines back and smiled at the girls, who ran off shyly, waving over their shoulders.

“Adrien, your lack of a backbone is starting to scare me,” Kagami remarked, only half joking.

“I mean, it’s not like I had any real reason to refuse,” Adrien countered. “It would only be cruel and unnecessary.”

“ _That_ is the problem,” Kagami stressed, holding up a finger, “You’re too empathetic. People get to your head, and you agree with whatever they’re asking of you.”

“I thought empathy was a good thing.”

“It is, but when taken to the extreme, it can become Stockholm Syndrome.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Let me make people happy! It makes me happy.”

“Fine, fine.” Kagami let it slide. “So, what does one do at a street festival?”

Adrien shrugged, scanning the surroundings for what seemed the most interesting. He spotted a ring toss booth down the street and pulled Kagami toward it. “C’mon, let’s play a game!”

When she saw it, she shook her head. “This is so childish. Why don’t we just buy some taiyaki and go home?”

“Go home? But we just got here!” Adrien pulled out his wallet and paid the young man running the booth, who handed him three rings. “I’m not opposed to taiyaki, though.” He handed her a ring, which she took with the tips of her fingers, as if it were a dead animal.

Adrien tossed his ring first. It knocked over the toy he had been aiming for, but failed to capture it. When Kagami didn’t step up, he threw the second ring, which completely missed the target and rolled away.

“Really, Adrien? You’re embarrassing me,” Kagami teased.

“As if you could do any better, Miss Too-Good-To-Try,” Adrien teased back.

“Okay, you asked for it.” Kagami took her position and tossed the ring, effortlessly snagging a prize.

“You’re inhuman!” Adrien gasped as Kagami accepted her prize with a smug smile.

“Excuse me!”

Adrien spun around at the sound of the unfamiliar voice directed his way, and a camera flashed in his face.

Kagami held up her arms. “No pictures, please,” she pleaded, ducking behind Adrien.

“You heard her,” Adrien asserted, holding a hand in front of his face. “We’re on a date—please, no pictures. We’re on our private time.”

“All right, Monsieur Agreste. Sorry.” The paparazzo hung his head and retreated, but five minutes later Adrien noticed another flash from the bushes. That sneaky little—!

“Let’s go,” Kagami urged. “I can’t get caught out here. Mother will be furious.”

“Hmm… I have a better idea.” Adrien grabbed her hand and dragged her to a booth with a wall of cartoon character masks footed by a gaggle of children jumping and pointing. “Which one do you like?”

“No,” Kagami said, shaking her head emphatically. “Those are for kids, Adrien.”

“C’mon, Tiger, you’re no fun!” Adrien unhooked a Hello Kitty mask and tried it on. It was a little small for his face, being made for toddlers, but it concealed his features well enough. “Perfect,” he declared. “What about you?”

Grimacing, Kagami reluctantly picked a Pikachu mask. “See how much I love you?” she muttered, slipping the elastic band over her head.

“Very cute,” Adrien approved, lifting Kagami’s chin to inspect her masked face. He could barely see her amber irises through the punched-out eye holes. “Suitable character, too. You _would_ be too stubborn to stay in your Pokéball.”

Kagami hit Adrien’s chest playfully with a backhand. “You, on the other hand… Hello Kitty? Seriously?”

Adrien lifted his mask just to grin and wink at her. “You still have a lot to learn about me, Tiger.” He slipped the mask back on and held out his hand. “Now, you mentioned taiyaki? Shall we look for some sweet fish to eat?”

—

The masks afforded Adrien and Kagami a few minutes of anonymity, but the news that Adrien Agreste had been spotted with his girlfriend at the street festival had spread like wildfire, and the masks started to act as more of identifying features than invisibility cloaks. Before long, they ditched the masks.

While Adrien was used to the attention, Kagami was starting to get paranoid.

“Even if they don’t get my face, Mother will recognize the yukata. And you’re too recognizable from any angle,” she murmured, moving to Adrien’s other side when a group of teenagers leveled smartphones at them, squealing. When Adrien snorted in amusement at her skittishness, she protested, “You don’t understand, Adrien, if she saw me at a festival like this—it would be like your father catching you at a club.”

“All right.” Adrien sighed. He _did_ understand, all too well. He wished he could transform into Chat Noir and just whisk Kagami away somewhere they could hang out and have fun in peace. “We can go somewhere else, if you want.”

“Please.”

Suddenly, a realization hit Adrien.

Growing up, he had always felt isolated and trapped in his room, and by extension, his house—being alone or indoors for too long made him feel antsy. Like a caged lion, he _always_ wanted to go out.

But as soon as he was out among people, so often, he found himself wanting to run away to somewhere private.

So, the problem was not being alone, or being in public. _He_ —Adrien Agreste—was the prison.

“Adrien? What’s wrong?”

Adrien realized he had stopped dead in his tracks. Returning to the present, he swallowed and refocused his eyes on Kagami. “Nothing. You wanted to go home? Let’s go.”

“Really?” Kagami leaned closer, her brows scrunched in concern. She could clearly sense that his mood had changed. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Adrien shrugged slightly, his heart heavy, as if it had been filled with stones and was slowly sinking to his feet. “We’ve pretty much seen everything. Let’s just go.”

Kagami put a hand on his cheek, looking heartbroken that he was upset. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring down your mood. We can stay—I’ll just tell Mother it was a one-time thing.”

Adrien shook his head and started walking back up the road, toward where he had parked his car. Kagami, still holding his arm, followed a pace behind him, dragging slightly.

“Oh look! Dango! Have you ever had it?” Kagami exclaimed with affected chipperness, pulling on his arm and pointing at a booth.

“You don’t have to try so hard,” Adrien said in a monotone. “You didn’t even want to come with me.”

“Don’t be sullen, Adrien!” Kagami chided. “It’s not that I didn’t want to come! It’s just—In Japan, our family is well-known, and it would have brought down our image to indulge in festivals like these, so I was never allowed to go.”

“Doesn’t that make you enjoy this even more? We’re in France, not Japan.” Some feeling had returned to Adrien’s countenance, though he still felt depressed.

Kagami guided him to the dango booth. “It’s my Mother. You know she’s been getting stomach-aches lately, and if she saw me doing something she disapproved of…” she frowned.

They heard the sounds of cameras clicking again, and Adrien’s heart sank further when he saw how Kagami tensed involuntarily. This wasn’t fun anymore. This was why he liked visiting other countries, where he wasn’t recognized as easily.

“Dango, then we’re going home,” he sighed, resigned. It wasn’t Kagami’s fault. It was stupid to think they could spend a carefree night out. “Wanna watch Coffee Prince?”

“Sure.” Kagami smiled sadly. “I’m sorry this didn’t go as planned, Adrien.”

Adrien shrugged. This was his life.

He should listen to Kagami’s advice and just accept it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some terms:  
>  _Le Goût du Japon_ \- Taste of Japan, the fictional name for a festival. Incidentally, a festival by this name was held every year where I was growing up.  
>  _yukata_ \- clothing that resembles a kimono but is made of light summer material, often worn to festivals.  
>  _taiyaki_ \- a fish-shaped waffle cake filled with red-bean.  
>  _dango_ \- balls of mochi, usually with sweet syrup drizzled over them and speared on a stick.
> 
> What do you think so far?


	10. Ordinary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat Noir pays Marinette a half-accidental second visit.

Marinette was sketching on her balcony when she heard a sound in the tree and caught a flash of black and luminescent green in her peripheral vision. The average bystander might not have noticed, but her eyes were trained to track her partner even while her attention was focused elsewhere.

“I know you’re there, Chat. Come out,” Marinette called without looking up from her sketchbook.

Chat Noir stilled. He hadn’t fully committed to actually paying Marinette a visit. It had been a stressful day putting out fires at work, and she had been vaguely in the back of his mind since the soirée. Maybe glimpsing her briefly down the hall that day had planted a seed—either way, on his masked run to clear his head that evening, he’d managed to subconsciously wind up here again.

He had only been flirting with the idea of dropping in, and her companionship seemed very appealing right now, but part of him wasn’t sure if it was okay to be hanging around with another girl when he was dating someone. Was it too late to slip away and let her believe she’d been mistaken?

Marinette capped her marker and looked him straight in the eyes.

Yup. Too late.

He crept down the length of the branch and hopped onto her balcony. “Hi, Princess.”

“Hi, Chat.”

He loved how she casually welcomed superheroes to her home at odd hours of the night. Well, one superhero. Him. _He_ was the recipient of this great honor.

He was grinning before he even realized it.

“You know, Princess, I really appreciate you.”

She laughed. It was a short, surprised laugh, like he’d caught her off-guard. “Me? Why?”

“Yes. That’s what I came here to say.” He could roll with that. He continued in a playfully grandiose tone, “I just want you to know you’re a Friend of Superheroes. Well, a friend to _me_ , anyway. My friend.” That sounded considerably less grandiose. He finished anticlimactically, “And I appreciate that.”

Marinette watched him with amusement in her eyes, pressing the marker against her upturned lips. She didn’t seem to mind the nonsense coming out of his mouth. “Friend of Superheroes? Lucky me.”

“Not everyone would be chill with a superhero paying them visits, so I’m glad you’re okay with me coming by from time to time.” Chat Noir leaned against the balcony in a way he hoped looked cool, because he felt about as cool as Peter Parker in front of Tony Stark.

“It’s no problem at all, Chat Noir,” Marinette answered breezily. “I’ve seen a lot of crazy things in my life, so it’s no big deal.”

He was about to pretend to be offended that she thought he was ‘no big deal,’ when he realized that was _exactly_ what he liked about her. So he dropped the cool act and took a seat at her table. “What are you working on this time?”

Marinette tipped the sketchbook toward him. “A sun dress for my friend, Alya. She’s going on a beach trip with her boyfriend in a few weeks, and I’m _betting—_ ” she winked— “he’s going to jump on the opportunity to propose. Just want to nudge him in the right direction by putting her in something cute!”

It was a yellow spaghetti-strap dress with a layered skirt that came down to mid-thigh, with a tastefully frilly surplice neckline and a wide sash around the waist, creating a ‘wrapped’ look that he was sure would flatter Alya’s curves. “It _is_ really cute, Princess. I’m sure it’ll look great on her.”

Marinette looked taken aback. “You know Alya?”

Her reaction made him panic a little, worrying he’d said something out of character. But it was unnecessary—his bases were covered. “Of course—the Ladyblogger?” It must have slipped her mind.

“Ah, right, right. Of course you know her.”

“Even if I didn’t, anything you design would look great on anyone.”

“Wow, Minou, you must be _really_ lonely to come paying catcalls and compliments to a girl you barely know,” Marinette teased idly as she uncapped a light brown marker for the shadows.

The offhanded teasing hit home. Chat couldn’t bring himself to think of a joke to counter with. Instead, he watched her fill in the shadows, admiring her steady hands and the confidence of her strokes while an uneasy feeling soured his stomach.

Her eyes flicked up and met his. She seemed surprised by whatever expression he was making—he couldn’t tell—and her eyebrows lowered in concern. “Hey, Chat, are you okay?”

He bit his lip, deliberating how honest he wanted to be with her. In light of recent events, he decided he’d take this opportunity to let loose. He had no reason to act stoic around her. “No, not really, but it’s nice to be here with you.”

Marinette capped the marker and pushed away her sketchbook. Propping her elbows on the table, she wove her fingers together and rested her chin on them, giving him her full attention. “I might just be a random civilian to you, Chat Noir, but with me, you have complete access to all the perks of a best friend,” she declared. “Just so you know.”

“Perks like what?”

“Well, for one thing, you can talk to me if you want.” She tilted her head to the side. She looked very… inviting. Trustworthy. Like someone he could spill all his darkest secrets to, and she would understand and not judge him. He felt like he needed someone like that in his life. Even with Kagami, he still felt like he needed to impress her, and convince her that he was well-balanced, intelligent, and capable.

His relationship with Marinette had never been quite as close as that, even during lycée. They mostly just spent time together in group settings. So, while they were close in the sense that they were ‘familiar,’ knew each other’s favorite foods, and didn’t mind friendly touching and teasing, they still surely each had hidden depths yet uncovered by the other. He guessed he hadn’t quite reached ‘best friend’ status with her.

That was a shame, but not too much of one, since he had another opportunity to reopen that book right here, right now. The thought excited him.

“By the way, you’re not a random civilian—Friend of Superheroes, remember?” he winked.

She chuckled, humoring him. “… I’m serious, though.”

Chat Noir smiled. He knew she was. It put him in the mood for confessions. “You know what I like most about visiting you, Princess?”

“What?”

“You make me feel like an ordinary person.”

Marinette laughed. “Seriously? With the ears, the mask and the _tail,_ with me not even knowing your name? How is that anywhere near ordinary?”

“Well…” Chat thought, trying to put a finger on why, because she made a good point. “Well, you don’t expect anything of me.”

This seemed to trouble her, for some reason. She peered at him as if she were trying to figure him out.

“That’s a _good_ thing, Princess,” he clarified.

“What about your civilian life? Aren’t you ordinary then?” Her hands darted to her mouth, realizing the bluntness of her words. “I mean, I’m sure you’re an extraordinary person and all, how could you not be, you’re so dramatic and over-the-top all the time, but—”

Chat Noir couldn’t help but laugh at her rambling qualification. “‘Ordinary’ isn’t an insult, Princess. I don’t care to be extraordinary. I just want to be like everyone else.”

She snorted. “It’s not like everyone’s all the same, Chat.”

Chat hummed, accepting her point. “You’re right. I guess I’m oversimplifying. I guess what I mean is that my civilian life can be kind of… stressful.”

“Stressful?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “It’s a little… demanding at times. I have to do a lot of pretending. Or at least… acting better than I am. I’m not allowed to be average.”

“You don’t have to pretend around me.”

“That’s why I like you, Princess.” Chat Noir winked.

He decided this should be okay, regardless of Kagami. What was wrong with having a friend? He needed a friend. Everything he had been keeping to himself churned inside him like a plague, making him almost feel physically ill. Maybe one day he could tell her. For now, the hope for that would be enough to get him through tomorrow.

If he had to be Chat Noir to be friends with her, true friends, _best_ friends—how in the world had he earned the right to those perks she promised?—he would accept that.

He didn’t mind taking time away from Adrien Agreste, anyway.

For now, though, if he stayed any longer, he would be late for his date with Kagami.

“So, what’s wrong, Chat Noir?” She was still watching him patiently, her chin on her hands.

He was thirsty for her sincere willingness to listen.

Pulling his lips into a forced smile that seemed to push Marinette in the other direction—she frowned, clearly sensing it wasn’t genuine—he stood with a two-fingered salute. “I appreciate your offer to listen, Princess, but I’m afraid I have to go.” He hesitated before adding, “Do you think I could... come back tomorrow?”

“Of course,” she answered warmly. “Anytime. I meant it. Good night, Minou.”

He hopped onto the rail. “Good night.”

With a rustle of her flora, he was off into the darkness.

His heart was fluttering. It must have been the excitement of realizing she actually cared about him, instead of just tolerating him. She cared enough to give him _best friend privileges._ It must have been the excitement of knowing she was expecting him the next day. 

And, he was excited about his date that evening. Excited for the chance to repair his past mistakes. He was sorry for being mopey after the festival, and wanted to show Kagami a good time.

He felt like he’d regained enough emotional strength to do so, just from the ten minutes at Marinette’s.

He always had thought of her as a worker of miracles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's our second dose of Marichat. What do you think?
> 
> I'm really happy about some of these comments people have been posting. Up until now, I've only posted my fanfiction on YouTube, but I wanted to give AO3 a try after seeing how in-depth people's comments have been. I'm very curious to know what themes you readers pick up on, how realistic you feel the characterization and psychological profiles are, and if you can relate to the characters. So, thank you to all who've taken the time to comment!
> 
> Until tomorrow.


	11. Available

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien has a rough day.

Adrien called his father’s phone, again, and listened to the tone ring through to his voicemail, _again_.

_“… am unavailable at this moment. Please leave a message or contact my assistant, Nathalie, at the following num—”_

Adrien sighed and hung up, before dialing Nathalie.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Hello, Adrien?”

“Good morning, Nathalie. Do you know where Father is?”

“I last saw him in the study.”

“I called, but he didn’t answer.”

“Hm… strange.”

And it was strange—ever since Adrien had found out his father was Hawkmoth and this whole drama had started to unravel between them, his father had been good about picking up the phone whenever Adrien called.

Adrien heard the clicking of heels against tile as Nathalie went to check his study.

“He isn’t there… he must have gone out.” She sounded a little distracted, as if trying to brainstorm where he might be and what he might be doing. “He didn’t tell me he was leaving, though.” More footsteps. “The car’s still here…”

Adrien rubbed his forehead, hoping his sense of foreboding was unwarranted. “Nathalie, are you free?”

“For you, yes… why? Do you need something?”

“Can we talk?  
  
“Of course.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

—

Adrien found Nathalie at her desk, scowling at the computer screen amidst rapid-fire typing. He placed coffee and a croissant beside her, pleased to see her face melt into a smile. He knew she had a habit of skipping breakfast. “Good morning, Nathalie.”

“Good morning, Adrien. Actually, it wasn’t a very good morning—even though it’s Saturday morning, the photographers are bombarding me with calls and messages asking why the samples aren’t ready yet. I’m trying to convince them to push back the photoshoots until next week. Not that we have much of a choice.” She looked exhausted. “You’ve made it better, though. Thanks for the croissant.”

“I’m sorry, you have to deal with all that.” He felt personally responsible for the sample debacle. Even though he was technically only responsible for the fall line, he had been trying to keep tabs on whatever else happening with the company, as an extra set of ears and eyes, so he could help keep things from falling through the cracks. Of course, there were details his father didn’t tell him about, so he hadn’t known about this particular sample drop, but he still felt like he had been slacking.

“You couldn’t have done anything about it,” Nathalie reassured him.

“Maybe. So…” Adrien bit his lip and sat on the edge of her desk, in the absence of a chair. When Nathalie shifted her eyes, showing obvious disapproval of his behavior, he snorted and waved a hand. “Come on, Nathalie, it’s just us here.”

Nathalie sighed, forcing herself to relax. Her phone chimed, and she glanced at it, frowning before switching it to silent. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“How has Father been?”

Nathalie shook her head. “You know how he’s been.”

“I need details, Nathalie, please. I haven’t been here every day like you have.”

Nathalie let out a deep sigh. “He’s been spending long hours in front of his computer, but when I ask him how his designs are going, he has little to show. I don’t know what he’s been working on. He’s been going into the study, also. Going through Emilie’s old things.”

“The other day, I found him looking through photos of Mom,” Adrien pointed out. “He had the butterfly miraculous with him. I’m worried about letting him be alone for too long—I don’t trust him to be reasonable.”

“He’s started asking me to help with the reviews,” Nathalie offered hesitantly.

“Reviews of…? Budgets? Schedules? Assignments?”

“No…” Nathalie said in a small voice, “Designs. Patterns. Material lists.”

“What? _You’ve_ been reviewing designs?” Adrien deadpanned. He couldn’t believe his ears. Only an experienced designer should be giving approvals.

“I tried to refuse, but he insisted that he needed the help, and— _what was I supposed to do, Adrien?_ ” Nathalie raised her voice defensively, a note of desperation entering her tone at the way Adrien was looking at her. “I don’t know how else to help him!”

“No wonder there have been errors lately,” Adrien said coldly, mostly angry with his father, but also partly at Nathalie for going along with him even though it didn’t make sense. Yet, her obvious agony at the situation made it impossible to hold it against her. Sighing, he turned to her. “He doesn’t need help with reviews, he needs emotional support. He should be perfectly capable of doing his job, if only he weren’t drowning himself in misery over mom.”

“Emotional support?” Nathalie bit her lip and looked away. “I’m no replacement for Emilie.”

“No one can be!” Adrien exploded. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? _No one_ can replace her, not you, not me, not anyone. So what’s the point of feeling inadequate because you can’t be her? Father needs _someone,_ and she isn’t here to _be_ that someone—she’s in the basement on life support, and he’s still clinging on to the nonexistent hope that one day she could be back with us, laughing and singing and playing practical jokes like she used to—”

Adrien choked on tears that started to stream down his cheeks. He was so concerned about how his father was handling the situation that he hadn’t faced his own grief about his mother’s state. How much he missed her smacked him like a punch to the gut.

Yet, he couldn’t afford to cry or look weak, especially not now. He had a point, before his feelings got the better of him. He wiped the tears away angrily and continued. “My point is—he needs you, Nathalie. If we both keep our distance because we can’t plug the hole Mom left, he’s never going to get better. We need to help him, Nathalie. Please. I need your help on this… I can’t do it alone. I know you care about him.”

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Nathalie’s arms were around him. It was awkward, and he hated how inept they all were—him, Nathalie, his father. He hated how difficult this was. He patted her elbow, holding back tears, trying to keep himself from completely losing composure and bawling all over her pristine blazer. Feeling more composed, he extricated himself from her embrace and looked her in the eyes. “Nathalie, why don’t you try just spending time with him? Not as his assistant. Not to schedule his time, or ask him for designs, or help him with work. Just—be there for him. Talk to him. _That’s_ what he needs now.”

“I’ll try… though I feel like he barely tolerates me these days,” she sighed bitterly.

“He barely tolerates anyone these days. Don’t take it personally.” Adrien murmured, his sympathy for Nathalie growing. He had noticed years ago how she felt about his father, even though she never said anything—this wasn’t easy for her, and yet, she was trying. She was trying very hard, the only way she knew how to help him, which was to handle the logistics. “Nathalie… He needs love.”

Nathalie took in a breath, looking terrified at the implication of that statement.

“I’m trying, but I can only do so much,” Adrien explained. “He still sees me as a kid that he needs to exert his authority over. You, on the other hand? He trusts you, Nathalie. He respects you…” _Enough to hand you the reins of his own company, apparently._ “I’m afraid of what he’ll do if we just leave him alone.”

Nathalie nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“How long has it been since you saw him?”

“An hour and a half, maybe two hours? … I’m sorry for losing track. I really thought he was in the study.”

“I’m going to check downstairs.” When Nathalie started to follow him, he turned and smiled at her. “It’s okay, I’ll go alone. You haven’t touched your breakfast—your coffee’s probably cold.”

Nathalie returned the smile weakly, sadly. “I’m sorry for letting you down, Adrien.”

Adrien shook his head. “You haven’t. I’m sorry for snapping at you. This hasn’t been easy for any of us.”

—

Adrien found his father gathering butterflies.

“Father, what are you doing down here?” he asked lightly, trying to keep judgment out of his tone.

“It was time for the butterflies to emerge.”

“You don’t need the butterflies anymore, Father,” Adrien said in the same light tone, though he could feel hysteria rising in him. This situation was absurd.

“I’m not going to do anything with them,” Gabriel said, his voice calm and dry like paper. “I’m just bringing them to where the other butterflies are.”

“Why don’t we just set them free?” Adrien came to his father’s side.

Before Adrien knew what his father was doing, Gabriel lifted Adrien’s hand in his fingers and stroked the miraculous ring with his thumb. Adrien shuddered and instinctively clenched his fist, securing the ring on his finger.

“Wouldn’t Ladybug give you her earrings if you asked?” Gabriel inquired in a low voice.

“ _No, Father,_ we are not doing this,” Adrien said as firmly as he could, trying not to let himself tremble.

“She loves you,” Gabriel continued. “There wouldn’t be any need for akumas. There would be no fighting. All you would have to do is ask her.”

“She doesn’t love me, and even if I asked, she wouldn’t give me her earrings. There is no point in pursuing this.” Adrien carefully kept his mind in a calm and rational space. He would not get emotionally involved. He would not entertain his father’s thoughts.

“I promised her, Adrien.” Gabriel’s voice was full of anguish. “How can I just give up when we already have half of the solution?”

“We talked about this, Father… you know we can’t use the wish. We can’t trade her life for someone else’s.” Adrien used his other hand to peel his father’s fingers away from him. “Could you live with yourself after taking someone’s life?”

“I _already_ can’t live with myself,” Gabriel rasped.

“It was _not_ your fault, Father.” Adrien slowly took the tongs from his father’s hand and placed them on the floor, by his mother’s capsule. He carefully avoided looking at her. Doing so wouldn’t help him stay calm.

“It was.” The utterance escaped as a half wail, half sob.

“Things happen, Father. You can’t blame yourself. We have to try to move on. Come on, Father, let’s go back upstairs.”

Gabriel placed one hand on the glass of the capsule, gazing down at Emilie, his face contorted with deep longing. Adrien, who chose to watch his father’s face instead of looking at his mother, saw a single tear escape, as if it had been squeezed from the depths of Gabriel’s soul, already dry from too much grief.

“I’m sorry, Emilie,” he whispered. “I’ve failed you.”

Adrien waited, too emotionally drained to say anything more or to try to lead the situation. However, he did not leave his father’s side, and expressed no intention to budge until his father was ready to come with him.

Finally, Gabriel turned away from Emilie’s capsule and strode past Adrien toward the elevator.

Adrien followed him silently, wondering what more he could do.

—

Adrien had intentionally cleared his schedule for the day, so he spent the afternoon with his father, trying to figure out how a father and son were supposed to pass the time together. He tried talking to him about literature or offering to play duets on the piano, to which Gabriel reluctantly agreed. Adrien even tried inviting him to play basketball or video games—Gabriel declined as expected. By the time evening fell, Adrien and Nathalie were exchanging glances, both suffering from the uncertainty of whether they were helping or making things worse.

Gabriel was reading a book, insistent on finishing ‘the chapter’ before he came to dinner, though Adrien was sure his father had already finished two or three. He recognized the book as one he’d seen his mother reading, and was tempted to point out that reading it wouldn’t help Gabriel move on, but he restrained himself. They would have to take this one step at a time.

Adrien could only take so much of this—he had barely sat down for dinner with Nathalie when decided he had had enough. He stood up again, muttering an apology. 

“Where are you going, Adrien?” Gabriel asked from his armchair, seeming alarmed. 

“I forgot I—Kagami and I are supposed to meet tonight. Please excuse me, Father.”

Adrien thought his father would either rebuke him for leaving dinner, or brush off his departure. Contrary to Adrien’s expectations, Gabriel stood up and strode across the room to come face-to-face with his son. His expression was tender. “Thank you, Adrien.”

“… For what?”

“For not abandoning me, even though I’ve given you every reason to.”

Those were the last words Adrien was expecting to hear, and they broke upon his heart like a refreshing wave on a scorching shore. Adrien stepped forward and embraced his father, stubborn determination coursing through him. It wasn’t comfortable, nor was it natural, but he refused to let this bond die. He refused to be cowed before the awkward humiliation of a man who didn’t have the strength to live up to the role of ‘father.’

“I will never abandon you,” he whispered emphatically.

—

Adrien hadn’t really intended to go to Kagami’s, since they didn’t have plans that night. Instead, he went home and tried to sort through some business matters and get ahead for the next week. It might have been therapeutic, if he hadn’t been so worried about the extent of the damage done by Gabriel shirking his review responsibilities. He made a mental note to ask Camille to step in and take a look. Why his father hadn’t asked the senior designers for help was beyond him. Most likely, he didn’t want to give the rest of the staff any notion that he was struggling.

After a few hours of this, Adrien was feeling restless and in need of some emotional release. Impulsively, he stood up, shut down his computer decisively, and grabbed his bag.

By the time he got to Kagami’s estate, he was shaking. It was probably a combination of the emotional tension and the fact that he had skipped dinner. He took in several deep breaths before ringing the doorbell, trying to steady himself.

Kagami met him at the door. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Sorry. I should have called ahead. I spent the day with my father, and …” Adrien shook his head. He didn’t really want to talk about it, he just wanted a distraction. He slipped off his shoes as he stepped inside, and kissed her hand like a gentleman. “It was a long day, and I thought… seeing you would make it infinitely better.”

Kagami smiled and embraced him, something she only did when they were absolutely alone together. Adrien wondered if she could feel him shaking. If so, she didn’t give any indication. Before long, she slipped out of his arms and took his hand, tugging him down the hall. “Mother and I were just having tea. Come join us.”

To Adrien’s relief, Mrs. Tsurugi was not angry with his unexpected visit. Instead, she brought out _daifuku_ to accompany their tea, with an impish smile, as if delighted to indulge in the mischief of eating a sweet snack at nearly 10 p.m.

They made polite conversation, which was at least free of the darkness Adrien had been wading through all afternoon.

After Mrs. Tsurugi retired to bed, Adrien and Kagami looked at each other.

“How about a game of chess, like old times?” Kagami asked, with a glint in her eye, referring to their days in university when they would spend late nights in the common rooms playing.

She clearly had more energy than Adrien had at this moment. “I don’t know,” he said dubiously. He didn’t want to think.

“What would _you_ like to do?”

Adrien didn’t even know. He felt like he’d exhausted his roster of ‘things he’d like to do’ when he was trying to tempt his father with activities earlier that afternoon. “Watch anime?” he shrugged.

“Haven’t we been watching a lot of television lately?” Kagami pointed out. “It’s going to rot our brains. Just one game of chess. Please?”

 _No,_ Adrien whined internally, but he said, “Okay.”

He lost his pieces one by one, and congratulated Kagami when she teasingly boasted about her victory. He kissed her, letting the sensation of her lips replace the unpleasant thoughts that kept swirling through his mind.

 _I had a horrible day,_ was on his tongue. _I feel like I’m heading toward a breakdown and I’m scared,_ he wanted to say. _I don’t think I can do this anymore,_ his mind was screaming—but Kagami saw him as someone strong, level-headed, confident, and optimistic. He was afraid of ruining that image, afraid to find out whether she would stand by him when he couldn’t live up to it. So he stayed silent, bid her goodnight, and left.

—

“Minou?”

The French doors opened, and Marinette came out onto the balcony in her pajamas—a light spaghetti strap shirt, and pink shorts.

“What are you doing here so late?”

It was past midnight. He had tried to go home, tried to sleep, but he was feeling desperate under the weight of everything he had been repressing. His life was a lie. Everything that was important, he wasn’t allowed to talk about. When he closed his eyes, he felt like his ears were full of the sound of screaming, and even Plagg couldn’t keep his anxiety at bay. He needed to talk to someone.

“Sorry if I woke you,” he said, leaving out ‘ _Princess’_ —his heart didn’t feel light enough to tease.

“You didn’t.” She swept a hand across his forehead to move his bangs aside and look deeply into his eyes, as if reading his soul. Whatever she saw there must have moved her, because she kissed his cheek tenderly and wrapped her arms around him. He could feel her warmth through the suit, and melted into it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked against his shoulder, and he shook his head.

She stroked the back of his head with one hand. Her breathing was slow and steady, and her slightly damp hair, probably fresh from a shower, carried the scent of roses.

The soft warmth that she so willingly gave without asking anything in return softened the stubborn resolve that Adrien had carried around all day, refusing to give in to his emotions. One tear leaked, then another, and soon he was sobbing uncontrollably, he chest wracked with spasms as the sobs tore from his throat.

Marinette continued to hold him, stroking his hair and his back. “Let’s go inside,” she whispered.

 _The neighbors might hear,_ Chat Noir realized, but she didn’t point that out, instead graciously guiding him inside without taking her warm hands off his back. As soon as they were inside, she pulled him onto her sofa and enveloped him in an embrace again.

Adrien desperately wanted to talk to someone. He wanted to tell someone his father was Hawkmoth. He wanted to say his mother was dying and her body was in the basement, and it was up to him to help his father get better so he could finally let go of the temptation to terrorize Paris out of desperation to get her back. He wanted to whine about how difficult it was to try to prevent his father from running his company into the ground. He still felt like a kid, barely out of school, naïve about the way the world worked. Why did he have to deal with all of this? Who could help him?

Marinette didn’t ask anything, but everything about her body language said she was listening. And since Chat Noir wasn’t ready to spill everything, he simply choked out, “My life is a lie. It’s one big act and I don’t know how long I can keep it up without going crazy.”

In answer to this, Marinette cupped both of his cheeks in her hands, stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs comfortingly. “Minou… are you acting right now?”

“No…”

“Are we friends, Minou?”

“Yes… I hope so.”

“We are. This is real, Chat Noir. You’re going to be okay.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing into her touch. With every stroke, he felt his anxieties peeling away, leaving him raw and vulnerable.

“I’m scared,” he admitted.

“Of what, Minou?”

“Of ruining everything.”

She pulled his head down and kissed his forehead. “You couldn’t do that, Chat Noir. You fight too hard to make things right. I know that.”

Why did it feel like she knew him so well? Why did this feel familiar? He’d never been this close with Marinette. He never would have broken down in front of her as Adrien.

When he was with Marinette like this, nothing made sense, and yet, everything made sense. He didn’t understand, so he didn’t try, but instead, just accepted it.

—

He must have dozed off, because next thing he knew, he was bleary-eyed, with a little folk ditty in his ear that Marinette was humming, and he had to take a moment to remember where he was and what he was doing there.

The lights were off, and Marinette’s song had gone off key. He noticed her head was drooping and realized she was falling asleep despite continuing to sing. “Princess,” he whispered.

She blinked awake, and her voice stopped.

“Sorry for keeping you up.”

“Don’t you _dare_ apologize, Minou,” she said, then yawned.

“Ah, no! The Princess is missing out on her beauty sleep.” And just because he could, Chat Noir picked her up, bridal style, before realizing he’d never been in her apartment before and he had no idea where her bed was. He looked around, trying to make out furniture in the darkness.

Marinette giggled and rested her head on his chest, seeming to accept her fate as his captive. Or his damsel in distress, despite the fact that _she_ had just saved _him_ from a meltdown. “To the right,” she instructed him, and he found his way to the doorway of a smaller room—her bedroom. A window, with the curtain pulled back, let in enough light to see her bed with the sheets slightly tousled as if she’d gotten up in a hurry. She must have already been in bed when she heard him land on the balcony.

He deposited her carefully in bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Thank you, Princess. I’d be lost without you.”

He gazed down at her, standing at her bedside. Her face in the moonlight looked so sweet, framed by dark locks, loose and spilling out on her pillow, her eyes twinkling with a patient smile. “Do you feel better, Chat Noir?”

“Yes. Thank you.” He stroked her bangs to the side, not really sure why. Her face looked like a doll’s, and she was warm. There was something that drew him to touch her. “Good night, Princess.”

“Good night, Chat Noir.” Her eyes were already closed, and the way she said it indicated she was already well on her way to the Land of Nod.

He let her sleep, making his way out of her room and apartment, locking the French doors before shutting them behind him.

It was strange, the way he missed holding her, and still felt the ghost of her warmth tingling against his chest. It must be his emotional state—he was feeling overly sentimental after the tears. All this would pass by the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, what do you think so far? Someone who read this chapter before I posted it mentioned that the Agreste men seem to have had a role reversal. It's partly true, but as you saw in Chapter Eight, Adrien is still pretty obedient to his father. There are just times when he has no choice but to step up and be the responsible one--and, little by little, they're learning to take care of one another.
> 
> Also, there are some mentions of "the study" in this chapter. We've never seen such a room in canon, but I imagine there are more rooms in the Agreste mansion that haven't been shown on screen. I imagine the study is a smallish to mid-sized room with a desk and bookshelves, and feels a bit warmer than Gabriel's atelier.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts. If there were things you liked, or disliked, things that worked, things you find unbelievable. All your feedback is very interesting and helps me be a better writer.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't work nor do I have any knowledge about the fashion industry aside from some snippets of info I was able to glean from people talking near me at work (my office is in a work-share building so I overhear all kinds of interesting conversations from other companies) so maybe my depiction of things is completely inaccurate. I tried to piece together a guess of how things might work based on research, common sense, and experience in other creative professional endeavors. If it's totally far off, please forgive me and just take it with a grain of salt for the sake of storytelling. ;) But please tell me what's right so I can learn!
> 
> And now, after almost 42 hours of being awake with only a 1 hour or so nap (so excuse my Author's Note if it's a bit rambly because of that) I leave you with this chapter and bid you adieu. Until tomorrow, hopefully.


	12. Current

Chat Noir landed on the roof of Montparnasse Tower, a step behind Ladybug.

“All’s quiet on the east side,” he reported.

“Same on the west side,” Ladybug returned.

For the past six months that they had been doing these weekly patrols, they hadn’t come across anything; the mere sight of them probably deterred most petty street crimes, and there hadn’t been any akuma activity.

Chat Noir had decided not to tell Ladybug about Hawkmoth. If he did, she would want to take action to put him behind bars, or at least take the miraculous from him. If he went to jail, he would be disgraced in front of the public. The Gabriel brand would suffer. Everything would change.

And, honestly, Adrien understood why his father had done everything he had. He didn’t agree with it, but he knew his father wasn’t evil. He was desperate, depressed, a little unstable, and had a skewed sense of perspective at times, but once he got out of this rut, he would be okay. They didn’t need the law stepping in and making the situation worse. This was something they could fix on their own.

It didn’t feel good to keep secrets from her, but his family was at stake.

“Well, milady.” Chat Noir stepped up to her. “I suppose we’ll call it a night.” He held out his fist.

Ladybug touched the fist with her own. Even though they weren’t fighting akumas anymore, they still bumped fists before parting ways, like a cherished tradition. “Before you go, Chat Noir…”

He met her eyes, and realized the way she was looking at him was different from usual.

“Are you okay?”

A shot of trepidation ran through Chat Noir. Had he let too much emotion show? He smiled instinctively. “Of course, Bugaboo. Why?”

She tilted her head, as if trying to see him better from another angle. “Really? I thought you never lied to me, Chat Noir.” Her voice was quiet and serious.

He didn’t have the heart to deny it a second time after that. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily. Things are a little tense in my civilian life, but I have a friend who’s been very supportive, so … I’ll be okay.”

“A friend from your civilian life?”

From the way he hesitated, the guilty look in his eyes, and the shrug and half-nod instead of a confident ‘Yes,’ Ladybug realized heartbreakingly that the friend was probably herself. Marinette.

Though it saddened her that Chat Noir didn’t have anyone he could talk to as a civilian, and she wondered why not, she was at least glad that he trusted her enough to open up to her, and that he wasn’t completely alone.

So, she didn’t press him for any more information. Though she cared, his civilian life wasn’t something Ladybug should be asking about. Grasping his hand in a show of affection and support, she smiled. “I’m glad you have a friend to lean on. I hope things get better, Chat Noir. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Chat Noir squeezed her hand, grateful for the extra dose of warmth that she was giving him. A pang of longing stabbed his heart as she retracted it. He still loved her, but it had grown into a calm, tender love that resided in him like a subtle warmth. When she did something like this, though, that warmth started to sting, like holding a hand over a candle for too long.

“I’ll see you next week at the usual spot, LB,” Chat Noir said, flashing her a grin. With a parting salute, he flipped over the side of the building and bounded away.

—

Adrien’s phone rang at 9:00 a.m. on the dot Monday morning, just as he was preparing to go into a budget meeting.

“Yes, Father?”

“Good morning, Adrien. Are you in the office?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever you have planned for the morning, please make sure you’re covered or reschedule. You’re needed in the second floor studio for fittings.”

Adrien balked. “Fittings?”

“You heard me—the photoshoot is on Wednesday. I trust it won’t be a problem for you to do some modeling.”

“No,” Adrien sighed, choosing his battles. With a goodbye to his father, he hung up and called out to Celeste, who was passing by on her way to the meeting. “Can you take notes for me and bring up the points that I mentioned to you? You wrote them down, right?”

Celeste nodded, tucking a silky ginger lock behind her ear. “Yes, sir. On both counts.”

“I’m counting on you, Celeste,” he said with a grin, which disappeared as soon as he exited his office and turned the opposite way toward the elevators. He wasn’t excited to start modeling again.

The second floor studio was a bustle of activity. Camille was the head designer of this studio, but she had several interns under her, and a small team of seamstresses to help with production. There were four large tables in the center of the room, and the edges were lined with counters and drawers. Mannequins were set up around the room, and articles of clothing and notions were strewn everywhere in organized chaos, at varying stages of completion. Adrien scanned the room for Camille.

“Adrien! Over here,” a voice beckoned him, and his eyes caught the rapid movement of a hand waving him over.

He locked eyes with Marinette, and his widened in surprise. Memories of the other night rose unbidden to his mind—of the floral scent of her shampoo, her gentle fingers kneading the back of his head, her slender, bare legs draped over his arm as he carried her to bed.

He took a deep breath, forcing the thoughts out of his mind. Those thoughts were definitely inappropriate on so many levels. He made his way across the floor to where she was, at a table on the edge of the studio across from a row of curtained changing booths. Her immediate surroundings looked neater than the rest of the studio; he figured she had tidied up for the fitting.

“Marinette,” he greeted her jovially. “I didn’t expect it to be you.”

“It seems your father liked the idea of you actually modeling for my feature,” she said with a shrug, picking up a tape measure from the table.

As Marinette moved around, gathering some additional supplies, he couldn’t help but appreciate her sense of style. She was wearing a loose, white chiffon boat-neck blouse with a colorful bird pattern, tucked neatly into light brown trousers that hugged her hips, bound with a thin black belt. A joke about birds and cats sprang to his mind, but he pushed it deep down in favor of a more professional topic.

“Is this for Style Queen?”

“Yup. I still can’t believe Audrey is doing this. I was so sure she’d written me off after I rejected her offer to take me to New York.”

Adrien smiled at the memory. “Chloé probably never told you, but she was really grateful toward you for that. Her mom was always a sore spot with her since we were kids. I’m pretty sure she owes it to you that she even has a relationship with her mom now.”

“They seemed to be getting along well at the party,” Marinette commented, putting several folded garments in his hands and leading him toward one of the changing booths with a hand on his back. It was just a normal gesture—designers were used to pushing around models as if they were literal mannequins, and Adrien was used to going with the flow—but Adrien couldn’t help but be reminded yet again of the other night, of the way Marinette had led him inside her flat and wrapped him in her embrace as he sobbed.

Thinking about it made his heart beat faster. It _was_ weird after all. It was weird to know he had experienced that with her, and he was right in front of her now, knowing it, but she had no idea. He felt like he was tricking her, somehow.

Once he was hidden from view inside the changing booth, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to regain a semblance of inner peace, before making any moves to change into the garments.

He was used to hiding things. This was nothing new. He had interacted with people he knew as Chat Noir on a daily basis and had to play dumb as Adrien—he had been doing it for _years._

He came out to see Marinette leaning against the table, waiting for him. Her face brightened when he caught her eye, and she looked him up and down. Even though it was normal for a fitting, he felt strangely self-conscious to have her checking out his body. _No,_ he corrected mentally, _the clothes._

“Everything looks pretty good, actually,” Marinette remarked, circling around him and pinching the fabric here and there, inserting a few pins. “I don’t have to do much.”

“That’s good news,” Adrien said, fighting to keep the warmth that was threatening to spread to his face. He started to feel hot, and could feel the hairs of his neck standing on end when Marinette checked the collar and her fingers brushed his skin.

Just as Adrien was starting to worry about sweating on Marinette’s works-in-progress, she put another stack of clothes into his hands and shooed him into the changing booth.

“So,” Adrien struck up conversation during the second fitting, in an attempt to make things less awkward. “Who’s modeling the women’s wear? Did you get roped into that, too?”

Marinette laughed, a sound so delightful that Adrien couldn’t help but seek out her face to see the expression that accompanied it. “No,” she answered, “we’re hiring someone to do it. She’s coming in this afternoon for her fitting.”

“Ah,” Adrien said, a little disappointed. “I bet you would have done great, anyway. It would have been cool to see you in your own designs.”

“You’re seeing it now,” Marinette teased, making a playful ‘model pose.’

“Right, I should have guessed! You look fabulous,” Adrien exclaimed sheepishly, finding it suddenly difficult to meet her eyes, let alone give her outfit another close look. 

“Thanks for that vote of confidence, anyway.” Marinette resumed pinning the current outfit and jotting down notes in a small pad, before handing him the next set of clothes. 

He eyed the table to gauge how many outfits were left. His heart was racing, his hands were sweaty, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe right. Since when did he feel this way around Marinette?

He suffered through the rest of the fitting in relative silence, afraid he would accidentally give his flustered state away if he tried to engage her in more conversation.

Maybe it had been a mistake to visit Marinette again as Chat Noir. He hadn’t expected that it would make working with her so awkward. Then again, he didn’t usually work with her in such close quarters as today.

When the fitting was complete, Adrien took his leave. On his way back to his office, he dipped into the bathroom across the hall, stopping in front of the mirror. As expected, his cheeks were flushed. He groaned in frustration, annoyed that his complexion gave away too much, too easily. Turning on the faucet, he wet his hands and dragged them across his face, trying to cool down.

“My, my, my. This is interesting.”

Adrien glared at Plagg in the mirror. The kwami was floating in the air over his right shoulder, tiny fangs glinting as he smirked. “What’s interesting?”

“I’ve never seen you react like _that_ to Bakery Girl before.”

“It was just weird!” Adrien retorted defensively. “It hit me that what happened the other day as Chat Noir was kind of… intimate,” he confessed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have visited her.”

Plagg lost a little of his smug attitude, landing on Adrien’s shoulder. “I’m gonna be honest, kid, I think you needed it that day.”

“Maybe…” Adrien sucked in a long breath and held it before letting it out slowly. He grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser and dabbed at his face. “Maybe I did. But what am I supposed to do now? I feel like I’m deceiving her.”

“Why would you feel like that?”

“She doesn’t know she kissed Adrien Agreste on the cheek and let him pick her up in her skimpy pajamas and bring her to her bed…” Heat flooded his face, just thinking about it.

Plagg regained his smirk. “She was comforting her friend. She would have done the same for Adrien, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, Plagg… we were never _that_ close…”

“What I find interesting,” Plagg came around in front of Adrien’s face and looked him in the eyes, practically dancing with mischief, “is that you’re so focused on _those_ details.”

Adrien’s blush deepened, feeling despicable to be skewing an innocent gesture from one friend to another.

“I’d almost think you had _feelings_ for Bakery Girl.”

Adrien gasped. “Plagg! I’m in a relationship, for goodness’ sake! Stop trying to plant ideas!”

Plagg cackled. “Too late. The seeds are already there.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

Plagg did a loop-de-loop in the air. “Maybe Bee Girl was on to something.”

“Okay, enough,” Adrien said, getting angry. “I’m dating someone, it’s absolutely wrong to be implying these things.” Tossing the wad of paper towels in the garbage, he stormed out of the bathroom to look for Celeste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll leave it up to your interpretation why the chapter title is "Current." ^_^
> 
> I had a lot more planned for this chapter, but decided to cut it off here and move the other events to later chapters. This series was meant to be a series of 'snapshots' at first anyway, instead of following each day from beginning to end.
> 
> What do you guys think so far? Parts you liked? Disliked? Let me know! And, ugh, I'm sorry for updating at such a late time again--at least in my time zone, it's 1:40 a.m. -_-;
> 
> Also, my life is actually quite busy and the only reason I've been able to update every day these days is because Synk and I started writing about a week early. I've run out of the backlog of chapters, and won't be able to sustain posting every day, unfortunately. For now, at least, we're shifting the upload schedule to Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday. So stay tuned for the next chapter on Sunday (7/14)!
> 
> Cheers, mes amis!
> 
> EDIT: Sorry, but the next chapter is delayed until tomorrow, 7/15. :'(


	13. Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien debates about his feelings toward Marinette.

“I have a confession,” Adrien blurted out.

Kagami lifted her head from his shoulder. They were sitting on her bed, and she had been watching him pet her calico cat, Goro. Befitting to his name, he was sitting on Adrien’s lap, rumbling up a storm.

“What?”

“I got fitted for a photoshoot today,” he stated casually.

“Oh? So you’re starting modeling again?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

The air was filled with only the sound of purring for a good chunk of time while Adrien pondered how much he should say.

“Why is that a confession?” Kagami asked.

“I haven’t gotten to the confession part yet,” Adrien hedged.

Kagami stared at his profile, and he focused on stroking the smooth fur on the sides of Goro’s face, scratching him under the chin.

Now that he had alluded to it, he had no choice but to say something.

“It’s for Marinette’s feature in the _Style Queen_.”

Kagami gave him a suspicious look. “That’s great for her. But I still don’t get why this is a confession.”

“I, um…” The way Adrien had felt while Marinette was fitting him made him feel guilty. He figured the one-sided knowledge of his moment of vulnerability with her as Chat Noir had just made things weird at that moment, but he feared that wasn’t all it was. Maybe what Chloé had said at the soirée had affected him more than he thought. Whatever the reason, the way he saw Marinette had shifted.

He wanted to admit it to Kagami and come clean. He’d tell her that he had no intention of doing anything and was going to steer clear of Marinette at work, once this photoshoot was over. That was a healthy and mature way of handling this, right? Full disclosure. If he could tell her, it didn’t have to mean anything, right?

But, did he dare? Telling Kagami might put a strain on their relationship. She might break up with him. Their friendship might never be the same again. She might develop a grudge against Marinette. He could think of a dozen possible consequences of telling Kagami, and none of them were good.

Except the glimmer of possibility that she would appreciate his honesty and they would grow stronger because of it.

Her scrutinizing eyes pierced him, and he felt like he could hide nothing from her. Better to tell her and apologize before she could figure out herself that he had some kind of feelings for Marinette and feel betrayed. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come out.

“I know you don’t want me spending time with Marinette,” he said, as if that were the confession. “I just wanted you to know what I was doing, so you wouldn’t find out some other way and be hurt. The photoshoot is on Wednesday, and she’ll be directing.”

_Coward. You are a coward, Adrien Agreste._

Kagami reached out and stroked back a lock of hair that had fallen out of place on his forehead. “Adrien, I never said I didn’t want you spending time with her. If it’s for work, why would I mind?” She smiled. “Thank you for telling me, though.”

Adrien gave her a crooked smile back while his stomach twisted in knots. He pulled her in with one arm and planted a kiss on her head. “Thanks for understanding, Tiger.”

“Just returning the favor.”

“Hm?”

“You always understood me better than other people.” Kagami settled her head back on Adrien’s upper arm and reached out to bury her fingers in Goro’s side. His purrs reverberated in Adrien’s lap.

Adrien looked at her quizzically.

“My life has always been straightforward—make it to the top, no compromises. Ever since I was young, my mother taught me that if I considered others too much, I would end up yielding and showing weakness, even losing my position. She taught me to develop a tough skin so I wouldn’t feel guilty pushing others down to come out on top.”

Adrien rested his cheek on the top of her head, hearing her out before making any comment.

“When we first met, I lost to you, but you gave me a second chance. You saw how devastating the loss would be for me, and you spared me from disgrace. I never told you how much that meant to me.”

“… Oh.” 

“You showed me that having compassion for others doesn’t always make you the weaker person. It changed my perspective… so, even though I tease you for being so nice to people, it’s actually something I admire about you, and it makes me want to change.” She smiled up at him.

Adrien melted at her words. She had never admitted as much to him before. He had honestly thought that she hated that aspect of his personality. He kissed her nose affectionately and ran a thumb along her freckled cheek.

“So,” Kagami continued, “I’ll admit, you’re right. I’m a little jealous of Marinette, and I don’t entirely believe that you never had feelings for her…”

A needle of guilt pricked Adrien’s heart.

“… so naturally, I don’t want you to spend time with her. But, I know you’re friends, and she means something to you. I know you want to help her. So, I’m going to respect that. I trust you.”

“Thanks, Kagami,” Adrien breathed, and Goro protested with a mewl as he stopped petting him to pull her close in a tight embrace.

—

The next day, Adrien had another fitting with Marinette to check the modifications, but this time, he was prepared. He was strictly professional with her and didn’t touch on any unnecessary topics of conversation. The fitting passed quickly and without incident, and Adrien went on with his day.

“Maybe I’m getting worked up about nothing,” Adrien mused, sinking into his desk chair and switching on his computer.

Plagg phased out of Adrien’s shirt to land behind a succulent pot, visible to Adrien but hidden from prying eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, I’ve been seeing her a lot lately, more than usual. Isn’t it natural to be thinking about her?”

“You’re talking about Bakery Girl _again?_ ”

Plagg’s observation made Adrien feel self-conscious. Had he been talking about her a lot recently? “I was just worried…” Adrien trailed off. Plagg would tease, and he wasn’t in the mood.

“Worried about what?”

“Fine. I was worried that I _might actually_ like her that way. But I’m probably just working myself up by worrying about it.” He opened his email and perused the inbox for urgent matters.

Plagg shrugged tiny shoulders. “You surely wouldn’t have to think about it so hard if you felt nothing for her.”

“I don’t feel _nothing,_ Plagg. She’s my friend.” Adrien thought about the time he had dropped in on her while she was putting together her ‘Inspiration Book,’ and how comfortable it was to just chat with her and hang out. “Oh! That reminds me…”

On a whim, he pulled out his phone and opened Marinette’s instagram, _@TheRealMDC_.

“Oh~ho. You’re stalking her now?”

 _“No,”_ Adrien emphasized. “She said she had an account where she posts her designs, so I’m looking for it. Detective work, not stalking.”

Her personal account clearly wasn’t it. There were no drawings—only selfies of Marinette with her friends and some random artsy pictures—a few of her balcony plants during the daytime, outfits, macarons.

He tapped a picture of Marinette wearing an above-the-knee bright yellow circle skirt, paired with a half-sleeved cropped shirt with broad black and white stripes that showed off her trim waist, and tomato red shoes. The colors reminded him a little of Chloé, though the style was quintessentially Marinette. She was posing outdoors in the Jardin des Tuileries, so she must have had a friend take the photo. She _would_ have made a cute model.

“Looks an awful lot like stalking to me,” Plagg said right next to Adrien’s ear, making him jump in surprise.

“I like her outfit!” he insisted. “I work in the fashion industry, I am allowed to appreciate stylish clothing! Plus, it’s not stalking if she _challenged_ me to find her!”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Plagg quoted _Hamlet_ , polishing his whiskers.

Adrien rolled his eyes, pressed ‘back,’ and opened Marinette’s list of followers. He typed in the word ‘design’ to see if anything would come up. The list of results was so long he had to scroll. Duh, of course Marinette would be following a bunch of design accounts.

“What about that daredevil reporter girl?” Plagg suggested.

 _Right, Alya._ Adrien pulled up her account and searched her follower list for the keyword ‘design.” Only one account came up: _@DottyDesigner_. He snorted at the pun—especially appropriate if this was Marinette, since polka dot patterns featured prominently in her designs.

Adrien tapped to view the profile, to be rewarded with hundreds of illustrations of various outfits. When he clicked on one, a swipe revealed the finished outfit on a dress form. These were interspersed with random sketches not paired with finished pieces.

From what Adrien had seen of Marinette’s illustration style, this was it. His hunch was confirmed when he saw that the account was followed by _@TheRealMDC._ “Gotcha,” he muttered triumphantly under his breath. He didn’t think he’d be so lucky as for his first tactic to work.

“Is that Bakery Girl’s work?” Plagg zoomed up close to the screen and tapped one with a cream-colored romper. “I like that one, it reminds me of cheese.”

“Ha! I’ve gotta tell her I found it!” Adrien was still feeling victorious as he perused the designs.

“Does that mean you’re going to visit her again?”

Adrien froze. He hadn’t decided on a course of action as Chat Noir. Steering clear of her seemed to be the obvious answer, if he were being consistent. But Marinette seemed to like and trust Chat—maybe even more than Adrien, though he couldn’t fathom why. The idea of ceasing to visit her just when their friendship was starting to pick up seemed disheartening.

If he was going to start distancing himself as Adrien—which Kagami wanted him to do anyway—then his double life shouldn’t make things so awkward.

Things were different when he was Chat. His actions were more inconsequential.

“I mean… why not? What harm could it do?” Adrien decided, still half lost in thought. He slipped his phone into his pocket and got back to work.

—

Chat Noir tossed a chunk of bark from the tree branch at Marinette’s French doors. It was already dark out, and it felt like too much of an intrusion to invite himself onto her balcony.

Moments later, she opened the door with a little smirk on her face. “Back so soon, Chaton? I hope you’re feeling better today.”

“I am, Princess!” Chat replied in a chipper tone. The branch bounced as he leapt onto her balcony and gave her an exaggerated, princely bow. “How are you this evening?”

“Very well, and you?”

“Great—I found your design Instagram!” He leaned against the railing with his arms crossed, looking as proud as a cat who’d brought home a mouse. “Your drawings look amazing.”

“Oh, really?” Marinette put her hands on her hips. “How much did you have to stalk me to find it?”

Chat Noir made an offended look. “Stalk you, Princess? I’m a gentlecat, I would never do such a thing! It wasn’t hard, actually—I know you’re friends with that Ladyblog girl, so I searched her followers list for the word ‘design,’ and the only handle that came up was followed by your personal account, so I figured that was you. Besides, I recognize your drawing style.” He smirked. “Didn’t think it would be that easy, but you’re more predictable than I thought, Princess.”

“Hmm,” Marinette hummed, coming up to Chat Noir and looking him over in a calculating way that made him feel less confident. “So you _do_ have a good head on those shoulders, Minou.”

“Are you patronizing me?”

She snorted. “Never! It’s just… there’s one detail bothering me about your story.”

Chat Noir gulped. “What’s that, Princess?”

“How do you know about my personal account?”

“—Uh!!” Chat Noir blanched. Marinette’s design account had over ten thousand followers, so he would have had to scroll through pages upon pages of usernames to notice the private account that only a leap of faith would lead him to believe belonged to her. Her name didn’t appear anywhere, and the profile picture was an artsy shot of a model wearing one of Marinette’s pieces on the runway—not that Chat Noir would know that. Instagram had only showed him _@TheRealMDC_ followed _@DottyDesigner_ because Adrien was already following her account. “Umm… I…” he tried to think of a plausible excuse.

“You’re a creepy stalker.” Marinette flicked his bell.

“No, I’m not!” Chat Noir objected. “I happened to find out in a legitimate, non-creepy way!”

“I don’t believe it,” Marinette laughed, “You’re totally a creepy stalker! You shouldn’t be allowed on my balcony anymore!” She pushed his nose with a fingertip, making him lean back over the balcony rail, far enough that it would have been dangerous if he hadn’t been equipped with a super suit as a safety net.

“Hey, Princess, have mercy!” He flailed, twisting away from her finger. Since she had leaned in to push him, when he got free and rebounded onto the balcony, he ended up practically in her arms.

He edged past her and stepped away from the rail, heart pounding and face flushed, temporarily robbed of words. If he wanted to lie to himself, he would say it was due to the adrenaline of almost being pushed off the balcony, but he wasn’t so naïve anymore. This feeling was familiar.

“Sorry, Minou, I went too far.” Marinette bit her lip and, taking his arm, pulled him in the direction of her flat. “I just made banana bread, do you want some? If you prove yourself worthy tonight, maybe I’ll even let you come back another day.” She shot him a playful look over her shoulder.

“Sure, I’d love some, Princess.” He followed her, just as he followed the last girl who made him feel this way.

For the rest of the night, his eyes were drawn to her, taking in the way her eyelids folded behind thick eyelashes when she blinked, the natural pink hue of her cheeks, the creases that appeared beside the corners of her mouth when she smiled and spoke, the way she tucked one leg under her when she sat. He got drunk on the sound of her voice, teasing her just a little more so he could hear her laugh again.

This feeling was familiar, because this was exactly how it had felt to fall for Ladybug within less than twenty-four hours, eight years ago.

Except, instead of a carefree student who could pursue his Lady to his heart’s content, now he was a businessman and highly public figure with a girlfriend, who was only stealing moments with a friend he wasn’t allowed to meet without the mask.

As he drank in her presence, his heart hurt.

Maybe it would be okay for him to just come and see her now and then. This didn’t have to turn into anything.

They could just be friends.

This should be fine, right?

Did he dare to keep coming back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, what do you think about everything so far? Let me know your thoughts about how everything is developing. I'm very curious.
> 
>  _Goro goro_ is the purring onomatopoeia in Japanese, which is where the cat's name comes from.
> 
> Just wanted to make a brief note about what Kagami said in the first part. In Japanese culture, 'saving face' is a big thing--doing anything 'disgraceful' can ruin your (and your family's) reputation, so it's important to save face when a mistake is made, so that reputations don't suffer. In Kagami's case, losing to Adrien would have been a big deal. Since the verdict was already handed down by M. D'Argencourt, regardless of whether Marinette's decision was right or not, there would be no way for Kagami to regain that victory in a 'graceful' way, even if she and Adrien both knew that she had won.
> 
> By offering her a decisive match, Adrien gave her the chance to win the victory fair and square, with a clean slate, allowing her to 'save face.' I doubt I explained that well, but from my understanding of Japanese culture I feel like it was a much bigger deal to Kagami than it would seem to the average western viewer.


	14. Grind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien grapples with his newfound feelings during the photoshoot for Marinette's feature in the _Style Queen_.

“You’ll be fine, kid,” Plagg whispered from Adrien’s collar as he strode down the hall to the photography studio, all made up and ready to go. “Remember to breathe, and don’t do anything stupid.”

Adrien heeded Plagg’s advice and took a deep breath before pushing open the door.

“Adrien! Good morning!”

The effervescent voice made Adrien’s heart quicken. He took in Marinette’s appearance—her hair was loose, one side hooked behind her ear, and she wore a loose, silk crepe button-down blouse in red, tucked into form-fitting black pants and red ballet flats. She looked good in red. “Good morning,” he said, trying not to blush or think about last night.

Not that last night had been anything remarkable for her. They’d just hung out and talked over banana bread.

But for him, it was the earth-shattering night that he had realized he had fallen in love for the second time in his life.

“Violette should be here soon, too,” Marinette remarked, beckoning Adrien toward the changing booths.

Violette was a model from a partner agency, and Adrien had worked with her on multiple occasions while he was still modeling, so they were on friendly terms.

Étienne, the photographer, waved as he approached. “‘Morning, boss.”

Adrien greeted him back, as Marinette held open the curtain for him. Four outfits were hanging in garment bags on hooks inside the booth.

As Adrien was changing, he heard the door open and a feminine, Italian-accented voice enter the room.

“Marinette, love! You look gorgeous as usual, my dear. Are you sure you don’t want to take my place?”

Adrien couldn’t help but agree with her appraisal, though it was probably for the better that he wouldn’t be posing with Marinette.

“Oh, hush, Violette,” Marinette laughed. “I’m a disaster in photos. I’d rather be on the other side of the camera.”

Footsteps came closer as Marinette ushered Violette to the other changing booth. “Adrien’s already changing, so we’ll start soon.”

The color scheme was neutrals with a pop of color. For the first look, Adrien wore a cream coat with black buttons, a grey turtleneck, and ochre yellow pants. The inner lining of the coat, which showed with certain poses, was white with centimeter-sized polka dots the same color as the pants. Violette, wearing a light grey overcoat draped over her shoulders, a white chiffon blouse with ruffled collar, and white straight-leg pants with black stiletto ankle-boots, donned a bright orange scarf.

“Good to see you, love,” Violette pulled Adrien in for a hug, throwing air kisses at his cheeks, careful not to disturb their hair and makeup.

Marinette handed Adrien a black umbrella.

“Did I tell you anything about the collection?”

Adrien shook his head. “Sorry, I should know by now.”

“It’s okay, this was all last minute,” Marinette reassured him. Addressing both him and Violette, she explained, “The theme centers around the pop of color in a greyscale palette, and since rain kind of symbolizes a drab or greyscale environment, I decided to use an umbrella as a prop, and even do some shots that look like they were taken in the rain. We’ll do a round of ‘dry shots,’ where you’ll pose with the umbrella, then move on to the ‘wet shots.’ Don’t worry, you won’t actually get wet, Étienne’s just going to use props to simulate rain.”

They shot a series of photos against a neutral grey backdrop with just the umbrella. Adrien settled into the familiar routine, his mind going into autopilot. He couldn’t help but watch Marinette as she moved around the studio, checking different angles, giving Étienne directions.

“Great expression, Adrien, but I need you to look left,” Étienne instructed. Marinette adjusted his arm, and he swooned internally at her soft touch and the subtle whiff of her perfume.

It had been eight long years since he had last fallen in love. The way he felt about Ladybug had scarred over into something calm, mature, and occasionally painful. He had forgotten what it was like to feel giddy from the mere proximity of the object of his affections.

Why had he ever agreed to date Kagami without feeling this way about her?

“Open the umbrella and hold it—yes, just like that.” Étienne continued to give instructions, Marinette leaning into him to whisper something inaudible to the models. She motioned with her hand. “Violette, over here.”

Bodies shifted. Adrien peeked under the umbrella’s canopy at Marinette—she met his eyes and raised an eyebrow. Feeling burned, he reverted his gaze to where Étienne wanted him to look.

Sure, he had rationalized that he couldn’t have Ladybug, and he didn’t think he was capable of loving anyone else the same way. He cared for Kagami deeply, of course. Their friendship was irreplaceable. She was important to him, and he wanted her to be happy.

Yet, Marinette had blindsided him. Since last night, he had been drowning in reminiscence of all the moments they had shared over the past eight years. She had caused him a fair amount of grief throughout collège and the beginning of lycée, when he wasn’t sure where their friendship stood and whether she really considered him a good friend or thought of him as highly as he thought of her.

“Try a little smile. Like you have a secret.”

Adrien shifted his weight, adjusting his pose. He had a secret, all right, but it didn’t make him want to smile. Nonetheless, shooting a longing glance at Marinette, he pretended there was hope for them and smiled. Why was love always out of his reach?

“Marinette deserves nothing less than fabulous, don’t you think?” Violette remarked to him, shifting her pose. “Spice it up, darling.”

That drove the last of the clouds out of his expression.

He recalled how precious those small victories with Marinette were, like the time they’d sat next to each other on the bus for three hours on a school trip and rather than it being awkward, they had lost themselves in chatting the whole way.

Since then, they had shared inside jokes and movie recommendations, and his heart swelled every time he reminded himself that they were really and truly friends.

Could that have been love, after all? A form of love? Maybe he had loved her all along.

Maybe he was so smitten with Ladybug he hadn’t recognized the potential that was there.

“… to Romeo. Earth to Romeo.”

Adrien blinked and looked at Violette, realizing he’d zoned out. “What?”

“How was your trip to outer space? We’re done with this round—time to change.” She snaked an arm around his and pulled him toward the booths, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “So, lover boy, sweet on our little designer, aren’t you?”

“W-what?” Adrien blushed. “Why do you say that?”

“Darling, you keep looking at her as if she holds all the secrets of the universe.”

“It’s not like that,” Adrien insisted, fighting a blush. His brain caught up to what Violette had been calling him—Romeo—and he gasped in horror. “Violette, you’ve got it all wrong! I’m in a committed relationship. With… someone else. Not Marinette. Please don’t insinuate anything.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Violette held up her hands. “I didn’t mean to offend you, my love. I didn’t know, otherwise I would not have said anything, okay? Forgive me.”

They went into their separate booths, the word ‘committed’ rubbing Adrien like a grain of sand under his skin.

For the next look, Adrien wore a primary blue coat over a grey-pinstriped white button down shirt and slate grey slacks, while Violette wore an emerald fitted blouse with a gathered collar and sleeves, tucked into beige wide-leg pants cinched with a forest green fabric sash.

Marinette pulled an inflatable pool from the other end of the studio, while Étienne clamped a pane of glass to an upright stand and misted it with water droplets from a spray bottle. He set up a portable shower head behind the glass, over the pool, and adjusted the lighting.

“Are you sure we’re not going to get wet?” Adrien asked dubiously, not quite sure how this was going to work.

Marinette laughed. “Of course! Watch and learn. First, you, Adrien… stand right here.” She guided Adrien into place while Violette settled into a chair on the side to wait her turn.

Marinette switched on the shower and held the umbrella under it until the top was decorated with water droplets and trails of water, then handed it to Adrien. Their fingers brushed, and she gave him a warm smile.

A sense of déjà vu dredged up an ancient memory. “Marinette, remember the day we became friends?” he asked breathlessly before she could step away.

The smile faltered and she blushed. “Of course I remember,” she murmured. “I’m surprised you do.”

“Why wouldn’t I? That was one of the most important days of my life.”

Marinette’s lips curled up subtly, as if she were lost in thought, then she looked Adrien over, choosing not to respond. Several seconds passed achingly as she adjusted his jacket, smoothed his shirt, and shifted a few strands of hair. Though she did it with all the innocent attentiveness of an artist examining the composition of her piece of work, Adrien couldn’t help but imagine tenderness in her touch.

When she stepped away, the atmosphere reverted to all business.

Étienne took his position behind the pane of glass, snapping a few shots as Adrien improvised poses.

“Violette,” Marinette called, and she switched places with Adrien.

Adrien hovered over Étienne’s shoulder as he photographed Violette.

“Let me work in peace, boss,” Étienne said with gruff affection, elbowing Adrien lightly without taking his hands off the camera.

“I just want to see how the ‘rain’ is turning out.”

Étienne humored him with a sneak peek. The droplet-covered pane of glass created a glittering bokeh effect in the foreground, and combined with the streaks of falling water droplets in the background and the water-covered umbrella, the shots looked convincingly to have been taken in the rain. “They’ll look even better after post processing,” Étienne added.

“Very impressive.”

“I’ll confess, the idea was Marinette’s.”

“Ah, she’s brilliant,” Adrien sighed.

The look Étienne gave him went over his head.

Violette snagged Adrien on the way to the dressing booths for the third outfit change. “You made her blush, Casanova. What ever did you say, love?”

“Violette, I’m serious,” Adrien pleaded, looking her firmly in the eyes. He lowered his voice and gave in to the fact that she could see right through him. “I’m not supposed to feel this way about her. If anything gets out about it, it’s not going to look good for either of us, so  _ please  _ stop.”

She looked at him pityingly and squeezed his arm. “If she’s the one you want, there’s always a chance. I don’t see a ring on your finger, after all.” She winked, a sly expression flitting across her face.

“Maybe,” Adrien sighed.

“I won’t breathe a word, my love, don’t worry.” She patted his shoulder, and they split into their respective booths.

“She’s right, you know,” Plagg whispered very quietly in his ear once the curtain was secured. “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble if you keep this up. You don’t  _ have  _ to be with Kagami if you don’t love her that way.”

“I can’t do that to Kagami,” Adrien returned quietly. “And I do love her.”  _ Just not that way, maybe. _

“Did you say something, love?” Violette called from the neighboring booth.

“No, nothing,” Adrien called back.

—

Adrien cut into his steak and, spearing an asparagus tip along with it, put a small piece in his mouth.

The low-lit restaurant was hushed, the sound of subdued chatter and silverware against ceramic filling the room.

“How did the photoshoot go?” Kagami asked, nudging his foot with hers under the table.

“I thought it went well.” Adrien took a deep breath to quell the sense of anxiety that was rising in his chest. “The photographer used this cool effect to make the shots look like they were taken in the rain. I can’t wait to see them published.”

“I’m really happy for Marinette.” Kagami’s smile didn’t show that she had any reservations about this sentiment.

Adrien nodded, then changed the topic because he couldn’t bear to talk about Marinette with Kagami. “I heard this dinner was your doing?” He looked around at the table, where some of Gabriel’s biggest backers were seated, enjoying the food and conversation. Best of all, Gabriel himself was present, with Nathalie at his side.

Kagami shook her head modestly. “I had lunch with your father, and we talked, that’s all. It was  _ his  _ idea.”

Adrien knew better. Kagami had a way of inspiring people to action. “Thank you,” he whispered, sliding his hand across the table to brush her fingers.

“I know you’ve been encouraging him to go out lately. I just wanted to help… I thought it would make you happy.”

“I am happy.” With a rueful smile, he retracted his hand to cut another piece of steak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I lied—updates will now be on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday instead of Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's read up until this point. What do you think of the story so far? Is the pace okay, too fast or slow? Does Adrien's thought process and emotional state make sense?
> 
> For this series, I was hoping to create a feeling of snapshots / moments that allow you to glimpse and understand 'the way things are,' rather than continuously following the characters around all day. So, some of the section and chapter endings might seem abrupt, but I kind of intend it that way. What do you think about this?


	15. Indulge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat Noir pays Marinette a visit.

_I’m already out… it can’t hurt. I’ll just see if she’s home,_ Chat Noir reasoned.

He did a swift about-face by the Louvre and made his way back toward the Ȋle Saint-Louis.

It was Sunday evening, the sun was still out, and he had just finished his brief meeting with Ladybug. Nothing remarkable, as usual, but it was nice to get out and stretch his legs.

The week had been particularly busy, with deadlines looming, and Adrien had been working into the evening nearly every day, taking breaks only to spend time with Kagami or his father.

That meant no clandestine rendezvous with Marinette.

Which wasn’t to say that he didn’t incessantly think about her. All he had been wanting to do all week was to don the magic suit, vault across Paris, and throw twigs at his Princess’ balcony doors until she came out.

However… self-control.

Now, though, fate had brought him somewhat near her apartment, and in the supersuit no less, so he latched onto the excuse to indulge in a visit.

As he crossed the Seine, his enhanced hearing picked up something subtle in the air. Music, if he could call it that.

When he arrived, the French doors were thrown open, and he could now clearly hear the sounds of a piano coming from within.

“Princess,” he called out, trying to sound suave instead of desperate.

The sound of the piano stopped, and Marinette’s head peeked out the door. Her eyes immediately locked onto his as he perched on the branch.

“Why, Princess,” he affected a dramatic tone, “I decided to go out on a limb and hazard a guess that you were home. And how happy I am that you are! You look radiant, sweet Princess.”

“Oh, Minou,” she rolled her eyes and indicated with a gesture that he was welcome to her balcony. “Such a clown, as always.”

“Well, this humble jester would be delighted to have the honor to make his Princess laugh.” He bounded onto her balcony and gave her a deep bow.

“Chat, you’re too much!” Marinette laughed, shoving him lightly.

Chat Noir melted under her touch. _Do that again, Princess_. He trailed her as she made her way back toward the French doors. “Did I hear a piano? I didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t, as you can probably tell. Though, I’m trying to learn.” Marinette shrugged and looked over her shoulder at Chat, one hand on the door. “I just got home, so I was unwinding a little before getting down to work. Wanna come in?”

Chat nodded gratefully. “You have to work tonight?” He tried to recall whether he was supposed to know she worked at Gabriel or not, and decided to play it safe. “Where do you work, Princess?”

“I’m an intern for Gabriel… and it’s not that I _have_ to, I really just want to be prepared. This week we’re presenting winter concepts and I want to put together a few fabric samples to demonstrate my ideas, since some of them might be hard to understand from just sketches.”

“So thorough. I love that about you, Marinette.”

She turned to look at him, and her blue eyes were so clear that he was afraid for a moment she could see him through the mask, that the way he’d said it was too ‘Adrien’ and not enough ‘Chat.’ Did he cross the line? Friends complimented each other like that, didn’t they?

“Well, then, Princess,” Chat grinned, laying it on thick to cover his insecurity. “Back to the topic of piano. What piece are you learning?”

“Well…” Marinette twisted a lock of hair between her fingers in an adorable nervous gesture. “I mean, I don’t really know what I’m doing. Satie’s Gymnopedie No. 1? I read online that it’s a good piece for beginners and I thought it was pretty… I kind of know how to read music from playing the violin for a couple years in école, but it’s been a while and I’m _extremely_ slow.” She giggled nervously as she made her way to an electric piano that was set up on the side of the room.

“Is this piano new?” Chat hovered behind her as she sat down on the bench.

“Yeah, I just got it this week.” Marinette continued to play with her hair self-consciously. “Kind of an impulsive purchase, but… I’ve been wanting to learn an instrument for a while. I love music, and it’s nice to have a hobby for when I need a breather from designing.”

“Hmm… that makes sense.” Chat smiled at her fondly. “Why piano?”

Marinette blushed, inexplicably. “Piano’s a good instrument… I mean, a lot of people start with piano, right?” She laughed—the kind of laugh intended to diffuse embarrassment.

Chat cocked his head, curious about the reason behind her obvious discomfort.

“Okay, I’ll admit it.” Marinette twisted on the bench to face him, wearing a sheepish expression. “The reason I picked piano is… I have a friend who plays the piano. Since I’ve known him, I’ve paid attention to piano music more, and it’s inspired me to start learning.”

Chat’s breath caught. Could that friend be him, perchance? Was the dusting of pink on her cheeks only a result of his rose-colored glasses, or was she really blushing? “Ah… really?”

“Yes, he plays very well. It’s because of him that I love the piano.” Marinette’s eyes crinkled in an earnest smile, then she turned back to the keys and laid her hands on them tentatively.

Chat Noir was afraid to ask who that friend might be. At least, uncertainty allowed him to indulge in hope that he had inspired Marinette in some way. He reached out and raised one of Marinette’s hands slightly, careful not to scratch her with his claws. “Raise your hands and round your fingers. Like this.” He demonstrated with his own hand.

Marinette looked at him in awed surprise. “Hold on, Chat Noir, you know how to play?”

“A little…” He shrugged in faux modesty. “I’ve played since I was five, after all.” He gave her an exaggerated wink to show he was being light-hearted and was only pretending to boast.

“Oh, I didn’t know!” Marinette squealed. “Play something!”

He lifted his hand and waved his fingers. “Can’t, Princess. Have you seen these clawsome paws?”

Marinette pouted.

He probably could have played, but there would be a lot of clicking, and he’d scratch her brand new piano. Plus, he didn’t want to dissuade her from trying. He grinned. “Maybe if you meet me as a civilian.”

“Don’t be silly, Chat. Okay, at least help me then, and _don’t laugh._ I’m horrible.”

“No, you’re just a work in progress. Now, enough attempts to get out of playing.” He nudged her. “Go ahead.”

She played the opening chords, with long pauses in between, looking back and forth between the sheet music and her hands. When the melodic line was supposed to start, she abruptly folded her hands in her lap. “Ugh. I can’t.”

“What are you talking about, Princess?” Chat cried. “You were doing great!”

“That’s as far as I’ve ever gotten.”

Chat stroked his chin. “It might help if you started memorizing measure by measure, so you don’t have to figure out the notes each time. When I was first learning, I took it slow figuring out the way the piece was supposed to sound and where my hands were supposed to go. I couldn’t play anything up to speed until I had it memorized. But the more you get used to processing the score, the easier it gets to sight-read.”

“That seems like a good tactic—I’ll try. Thanks, Chat.” Marinette smiled. “Anyway, I don’t want to bore you with this.”

“I’m not bored at all, Princess. I’m actually really excited you’re learning to play. If you want to continue, I’ll help you.”

“Help me?”

“Put your hands on the keys. Let’s pick up where you left off…”

When she did, he shifted her fingers around so they were on the right keys, and nodded. She pressed. He tapped the fingers on her right hand one by one to indicate the melodic notes. She followed his lead.

They continued like that for some time, not speaking. The stuttering rhythm of chords played out of time was the only sound that filled the space.

“See? You played the whole first page. That’s not hard, is it?” Chat’s hand lingered on hers.

“I guess not.”

Chat let go and stepped away painfully. “Keep practicing, Princess. You’ll be amazing in no time.”

“I don’t know about that, but… thanks for your help, Chat Noir.” She gave him a bright smile. “Would you like some macarons? Maman brought some over when she came to visit this morning.”

“Sure, Princess. Yes, please.” He caught himself before saying, ‘I missed the Dupain-Cheng macarons’—Chat Noir hadn’t ever had any, not even during that misguided brunch eight years ago. He took a seat at the table—solid polished wood, stained a rosy brown.

“With tea? Or coffee?” Marinette called from the kitchen area.

“Whatever you’re having.” Chat played with the cuffs on his suit and looked around her apartment. He had been so distracted by his revelation last time, he hadn’t really paid much attention to his surroundings.

The space wasn’t large, but it felt bright and inviting. The white walls were decorated with framed fashion illustrations by other designers, among which Chat Noir recognized his father’s work. White shelves built into recessed areas of the walls were lined with books—mostly related to fashion or art, but there were some novels and books of poetry as well. “Milan Kundera?” he asked, glimpsing a title he didn’t expect to see.

“I love his writing!” Marinette piped up cheerfully. “It’s beautiful. _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_ really left an impression on me.”

“I read it a few years ago. I don’t remember all that much about the plot, except that I really liked it.”

“It wasn’t so much the plot that I liked about it,” Marinette mused. “More the way he described things. And captured the essence of people and emotions.”

Chat nodded, making a mental note to read it again.

The palette of Marinette’s decor had expanded beyond the pinks of her adolescence. Splashes of color brightened the room—an orange armchair, a fuschia vase. A string of colorful mini paper lanterns dangled from one corner of a curtain rod to the floor.

The flat was clean, cheerful, and warm, just like Marinette.

She soon joined him with macarons and two cups of tea. “I hope this is okay. Oolong tea—I don’t put sugar in it, but I can get some for you if you want…?”

“No sugar. Thanks, Princess.” He grinned, accepting the refreshments. The macarons were green and pink-orange. “What flavors are the macarons?”

“Matcha and passion fruit.”

Chat Noir couldn’t stop grinning. “My favorite!”

“Which one?”

“Uh…” Chat Noir wondered how common it was to have passion fruit as a favorite flavor. Marinette had already found out today that he could play the piano. How many clues could he get away with dropping before she figured him out? Though it was tempting the test the answer to that question, he decided to play it safe. “Both? I like them both.” He picked a matcha one to eat first.

Marinette looked pleased about this. She took a nibble of a passion fruit one. “Weird combination I guess, but the creamy bitterness of the matcha offsets the tangy sweetness of the passion fruit. That’s why I asked for these two flavors. Plus, the colors look pretty together. Don’t you think, Chaton?” She winked.

“You have the best taste, Princess.” Chat Noir smiled at her tenderly, disarmed by the wink. Taking a sip of oolong tea, he fell silent, contemplating a question that had he had been wanting to ask her. Of all people, she seemed like someone who would have a good answer. “Marinette, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

He hesitated. Even though it was a perfectly normal concern, he still didn’t feel comfortable talking about this to anyone. He bit his lip.

“What is it, Minou?” Now she looked worried. 

He gave her a small smile to allay her worries, but it fell away before he spoke. “How do you help a person heal from losing someone?”

Marinette put down the macaron she was eating. “Chaton… is this why you were so upset the other day? Did you lose someone?”

“I…” Chat Noir balked. He hadn’t really thought of it that way—his mother had already been missing from his life for eight years. “Yes, but… it’s my father. He hasn’t been taking it well, and I want to help him, but I have no idea if I’m doing it right.”

“Oh, Minou…” Marinette sighed and pursed her lips, looking down at her hands. She seemed to be considering very carefully what to answer.

“Sorry to dump that on you,” Chat Noir murmured, wishing he could take it back.

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” she emphasized. “I’m just trying to think. I’ve never lost anyone in my immediate family, so I’m not entirely sure what it’s like… but when Maman’s mother passed away, she used to write a letter to her every night. She’d put the letters in this special box. After a year of doing that, she burned all the letters… I was really young at the time, so I didn’t fully understand, but she always seemed happier after writing a letter. Maybe something like that might help.” She shrugged apologetically. “Sorry I don’t have any better advice.”

“Hmm…” Chat Noir pressed a finger to his lips in thought. “No, that’s a good idea, actually.”

“Are you okay?”

He looked up to see Marinette gazing at him in concern. A smile sprang to his lips automatically. “Of course, Princess, don’t worry about me!”

In spite of his words, she got up and circled around him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind. He felt her cheek press against the back of his head, and the vibration of her voice as she spoke: “Don’t forget, I’m here for you. If you’re ever not okay, just come and I’ll give you hugs and snacks.”

Chat Noir’s heart was doing somersaults, but he played it cool. “Snacks, Princess? You just sealed the deal.”

“Silly cat.”

He squeezed her arms. He’d trade all the snacks in the world to hug this girl for the rest of his life.

It was when that thought popped into his mind that a moment of clarity hit Chat Noir. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right for him to be thinking of another girl this way, and not his girlfriend. He hadn’t even thought about Kagami all night—he couldn’t live a lie anymore. He couldn’t keep pretending with Kagami that nothing had changed, and that he felt the same way she did. It wasn’t fair to her. It would be kinder to break up with her than to continue doing this.

“What are you thinking about, Minou?” Marinette’s voice near his ear was soft as feathers.

His insides were churning as if he’d ingested poison. “Ah… nothing. Just… grateful that we’re friends.” He stood up, dislodging her arms, leaving his macaron half-eaten and tea barely touched. “Sorry, but I need to go. Thank you so much for everything.”

Marinette looked at him in alarm, sensing his agitation. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, Princess.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not. I just… sorry. I can’t stay.” He made his way toward the balcony doors, mind buzzing with the sense of wrongness and determination to make things right.

“Wait!” Marinette ran after him, panic rising. “What happened? If it’s my fault—I’m sorry!”

His heart broke at the thought of leaving her distressed and worrying about his sudden departure. Spinning around, he caught her in his arms and embraced her tightly, breathing in her scent. “You did nothing wrong, Princess,” he murmured into her hair. “There’s just something I need to fix. See you later…” Kissing the top of her head so lightly she probably didn’t feel it, he released her and left through her balcony without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: Things aren't as simple as Adrien expects.
> 
> Note: Gymnopedie 1 is definitely not what you'd start with as a kid, but a friend of mine who started learning piano as a teenager was assigned this as his first piece. I think they assign more 'difficult' pieces to adults to keep things interesting and not have them playing 'childish' sounding pieces. It's not that complicated, anyway.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_fuIMye31Gw - Here's a video of the piece, and as an added bonus there's a montage of all these beautiful paintings of scenes in Paris.
> 
> What did you think of this chapter?
> 
> See you on Monday.


	16. Hobby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Gabriel have a "heart-to-heart."

“Sir,  _ La Mode _ just called again to confirm their attendance at the 3 p.m. press conference.” Celeste fidgeted uncomfortably with the buttons on the side of her tablet. The question was heavily implied—whether the press conference was even going to happen or not.

“Okay, thanks.” When Celeste didn’t leave, but instead hovered in the doorway, debating how to bring up her concerns, Adrien added perfunctorily, “He promised it would be ready in time.”

“He said it would be ready last week,” Celeste cautiously pointed out. “The designers are asking, too. They’ve all come up with concepts, but their meetings won’t be productive without a theme.”

“I know,” Adrien sighed. “Listen, Celeste—” he motioned for her to come closer, and she took a step forward, leaning in to hear. “Don’t spread this around, but he’s going through a rough time right now. To be honest, I don’t think we should hold our breath for the theme today. If anyone internal asks, just tell them some changes are pending and to wait for an update. We shouldn’t call the press conference off yet, though… just in case.”

Celeste nodded.

“I’m only confiding in you because I need your help to keep things running smoothly, Celeste. I trust that not a word of this will leave the room. We don’t need any unnecessary drama.”

She nodded again, dutifully. “Understood. You have my word, sir.”

“I’m going to visit him to see what’s going on. If any calls come in for me, go ahead and forward them to my cell phone. Unless it’s the media. You know what to say to them, and don’t change the story until I tell you otherwise.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Celeste.”

She took her leave, and Adrien scanned his desk, taking stock of whether there was anything urgent that needed to be done before he left.

It should be safe to go.

He could feel it. This was going to be a day full of hurdles to overcome, but he held on to the memory of Marinette’s arms around his shoulders as a candle of hope to carry him through.

—

When Adrien entered the mansion, he heard the sound of typing from the dining room. The door was ajar, and he peeked inside to see Nathalie on a laptop at the dinner table. She turned and met his eyes, posture immaculate as usual. He questioned her with a shrug. “Why aren’t you at your desk, Nathalie?”

“Your father kicked me out,” she replied sheepishly. “Said he needed to be alone so he could concentrate on a project.”

“Is that so?” Adrien frowned dubiously. “I’m going to check on him.”

“Please do.”

He crossed the hall to the atelier and knocked. When there was no answer, he tried the door. As soon as he stepped in, he was greeted by Gabriel’s frown and raised eyebrow from the corner to his left. “Didn’t Nathalie tell you not to disturb me?” He was sitting in Nathalie’s chair, his arm holding the page in a book on the desk.

“Yes,” Adrien lied, “but I came in anyway. What are you doing?”

“I’m reading, clearly.”

Adrien clenched his jaw in irritation. “I can see that.” He decided to skip the formalities and get straight to the point. “Did you forget about the press conference at 3 p.m. with some of the top fashion magazines? We’re supposed to give them a sneak preview of the theme for the winter season, but so far, we have nothing. What’s the plan?”

“Adrien, that is no way to speak to your father,” Gabriel snapped.

Adrien took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry. It’s just—I’m really trying here, but I’m not a designer. I can’t help you with this. I’m just a little frustrated, especially since I have no idea what I’m doing and you’re not exactly helping. From the way you’ve been acting recently, it doesn’t seem like you care what happens to your company.”

“Maybe I don’t.” Gabriel looked down at the book and traced the corner with his index finger. Once again, Adrien recognized it as one of his mother’s books.

“Should we sell it, then?” Adrien asked flatly. “Arnaud has been wanting to take over Gabriel for years.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Adrien.”

“It would be better than just letting standards drop until the company falls apart and everyone loses their jobs and reputations, don’t you think?” Adrien pulled a wry smile to soften the harshness of his words.

“Don’t be so dramatic. The company is not falling apart.” Gabriel shifted into a reading pose and responded absently without looking up, “Just cancel the press conference.”

“Cancel—?!” Adrien took another deep breath to manage a calm response. “All right. I’ll tell Nathalie on my way out. … But, Father… Shouldn’t it be  _ you  _ lecturing  _ me  _ about how embarrassing this is? You know they’re going to publish articles and speculation about the  _ lack _ of any news coming from Gabriel, don’t you?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Let them. As if there aren’t enough rumors about us.”

Gabriel’s flippant attitude was chafing, but Adrien let it slide. The argument wouldn’t go anywhere, and there were more pressing matters to discuss. “So, what about the theme? The designers need some direction.”

“I’ll work on the theme. It’s still early,” Gabriel muttered into his book.

Adrien stood, eyes boring into the side of his father’s head, daring him to look up, daring him to care. Finally, he couldn’t take it. He stepped forward and snatched the book.

“Adrien!” Gabriel growled, and for a moment, Adrien was afraid his father would hit him. He didn’t, though. Instead, he spoke in a tense, low voice, “That’s your mother’s. Be more careful with it.”

Loosening his tight hold on the book, Adrien slid it back onto the corner of the desk. Now that his father was returning his gaze evenly, Adrien could see his eyes were rimmed in red. He sighed deeply. “Father, I know you miss Mom, but what can we do?  _ I  _ had no choice but to move on. Now… it’s your turn.” He finished with a gentle tone.

Gabriel was silent, but his eyes burned with the refusal to back down.

“Please, help me, Father,” Adrien pleaded. “I don’t know how to do your job. I’m trying to figure this all out, but I’ll be honest, I have no idea what I’m doing. Please, Father—you could even assign someone to help me.”

“Nathalie can—”

“No. Not Nathalie.” Nathalie had to stay here and make sure Gabriel didn’t do anything he would regret. “I can ask Raoul. He’s responsible, and he generally knows what’s going on. Should I ask him? Would  _ you _ like to explain what’s going on with you so he’ll understand why I’m going to him for help? Or shall I?” Adrien tried to keep bitterness out of his tone.

Gabriel glanced aside with a defeated expression. “Alright,” he conceded.

“Alright, what? You’ll let Raoul help me?”

“No,” Gabriel shot down the idea with disdain. “We’ll work together, you and I.”

“Really?”

Gabriel nodded and tapped the book, sliding it a centimeter toward Adrien. “Take her books and hide them. All of them.” He looked away despondently as Adrien picked up the book.

Adrien thought about what Marinette had suggested, an idea beginning to form in his mind. “Okay. Thank you, Father. I think I know a good place for them.”

Gabriel put his elbows on the table and stared down at his crossed arms.

With the book tucked under his arm, Adrien wondered whether now was a good time to leave.

Suddenly, Gabriel spoke: “I was trying to upgrade her miraculous.”

“What?” Adrien’s eyes widened.

“The spellbook. I couldn’t read the spells, but I tried to decipher them myself anyway, using scraps of information I found in books and online. I tested the first few on my own miraculous, and the tests were successful. That’s why I can—could—hold my transformation for more than five minutes and use my ability multiple times. When I tried a more ambitious modification on your mother’s miraculous, it was damaged, and she fell into a coma. I promised her I would bring her back. And now, I have to break that promise.”

Adrien’s mouth had fallen open. He knew there was more to his mother’s condition that his father hadn’t told him, but he had been afraid to ask while Gabriel’s mental state was still fragile. The confirmation that his mother was a miraculous holder too was only a half-surprise, but suddenly Gabriel’s consuming guilt and refusal to let go of his wife made sense.

The temptation to blame someone for the loss of his mother knocked on Adrien’s mind. _ If he hadn’t been greedy, Mom would still be here. If he hadn’t been reckless, none of this would have happened. _

He smothered the thoughts and took a step closer to his father, climbing through the haze of shock and anger to take in the man’s dejected posture and feeble form. He hadn’t been eating or sleeping properly. He was crushed under the weight of his guilt. No wonder he didn’t want to let Emilie go—if he did, he may as well have killed her himself.

“It was an accident, Father.” Adrien’s own voice sounded alien to him.

Gabriel didn’t stir, as if he were afraid of his son’s judgment.

“What’s the point of blaming yourself? How are you supposed to live with yourself like that?”

Adrien’s words seemed to transform into an accusation in the silence that followed. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he added quietly. “I don’t blame you.”

Gabriel stared at his arms on the desk. “It’s okay if you do. It’s because of me that you don’t have a mother.”

“Shut up, Father.” Adrien pounded the desk with his fist. “Don’t make me hate you. Because I really want to right now. But you’re all I have, so I’d rather not hate you, okay?”

Gabriel looked up with haggard eyes. Instead of rebuking Adrien for his tone, he merely answered, “Okay.”

“I think I have an idea to help us move on.” Adrien couldn’t muster up the energy to be warm, so even while his face was pulled in a stern expression, the least he could do was offer the words like an olive branch of peace toward his father.

The look in Gabriel’s face said he was willing to try.

“I’ll see you later.” Adrien turned toward the door, pausing before pushing it open to see if his father had any parting words. Nothing. “Don’t forget about the theme.” He pushed open the door.

Before leaving the mansion, he peeked into the dining room. “Cancel the press conference,” he told Nathalie tersely, then added, “please,” because she didn’t deserve his attitude.

He knew complaints would be flying around the office about the delay of the theme announcement. It wouldn’t be a fun day, and unfortunately, the conversation that was awaiting him at the end of it probably wouldn’t be fun either.

At least, if all went well, he would be able to take one burden off his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm wondering what people think about this Gabriel, and whether anyone finds him out-of-character. Yes, he acts differently from how he does in the show, but I keep coming back to the one line he said in Heroes' Day about being a "man with nothing to lose." This makes me think that if he couldn't revive Emilie, he would lose all hope. I've witnessed first-hand that people who lose hope cease to care about even making small efforts for things that are very important.
> 
> Also, I wonder what you think of the way Adrien acts toward his father. In canon, I've noticed a lot of clues that not only does he seek his father's love and approval, but he actually has a lot of pent up bitterness and anger toward his father. He tends to make biting, snarky remarks around / about his father, and as Chat Noir, outright yelled at him and ordered him around. So, with all the pressure Gabriel is putting on him by being negligent right now, combined with added confidence from being older and on "higher moral grounds," I can easily imagine Adrien lashing out at him like this.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think. Until Wednesday.


	17. Simplicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien visits Kagami, ready to break up with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so much for reading up until now! I'm really enjoying writing this story.
> 
> I might have to take a break from this story, though, to update the ones I've been releasing on YouTube. I got so carried away with this series, I've been completely neglecting those. That makes me sad, because I hate backing down on a challenge, but... I feel bad for not updating my other stories for so long.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter.

Adrien arrived at the Tsurugi estate a little before 6 p.m., feeling on edge. As expected, tensions had been running high at the office. Discontent had already been slowly building among the staff over the past few months, and the theme delay was the last straw. Today was the day everyone decided to come forward to voice their complaints. Adrien felt like he had spent all day making excuses for his father, and he was just about done.

Kagami had texted ahead to let him know she was training with her mother, and to freely come inside. So he let himself in.

“Don’t chicken out, kid,” Plagg pressed as he entered through the front door.

“Shh. Get back in there, Plagg.” Adrien removed his shoes at the foyer and padded across the glossy, dark hardwood floor toward the central hall encircling the dojo.

Plagg tucked himself into the fold of Adrien’s collar. “I’m just reminding you that I’m here, watching you, to make sure you follow through.”

“I will,” Adrien huffed.

“Just want you to be happy, kid…”

Adrien’s lips curled in a faint smile. The usually brash kwami had a soft spot and truly cared about his owner, which Adrien appreciated greatly.

Kagami was sparring against her mother with _shinai_. Adrien paused at the long window into the dojo to watch, careful not to distract them with any noises or sudden movements.

No matter how many times he saw her in action, Adrien never ceased to be amazed by the way Kagami’s mother moved in combat. It was as if she could anticipate Kagami’s every move. It was no wonder that Kagami was so good—her mother never took it easy on her, and the match ended in the older woman’s favor, as usual.

“Good evening, Adrien,” Mrs. Tsurugi greeted him, approaching the window. If it weren’t for the round black shades, Adrien would forget she was blind.

“Good evening, Tsurugi-san, Kagami.” Adrien bowed respectfully.

“Will you be joining us for dinner, Adrien?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” And he would feel horrible staying after what he intended to do.

“It’s no imposition at all,” Mrs. Tsurugi insisted, entering the enclosed hall and making her way toward the living quarters. “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. Kagami, you may spend your time freely.”

As soon as her mother was out of sight, Kagami slid an arm through Adrien’s and smiled up at him.

He brushed her bangs with his fingers. “How are you not sweating?”

Kagami shrugged. “I don’t sweat.”

“Lucky.” Adrien chuckled, but his insides felt hollow. He felt fatigued, and Kagami looked so pretty and serene, the exercise bringing out color in her face, which complimented the admiration and love evident in her expression. “Could we walk around the garden?”

“Of course.” Kagami kept in step with him as they crossed the dojo and took the back hall toward the garden.

They slipped on wooden sandals by the threshold, and Kagami slid the paper _shoji_ door shut behind them as they emerged into the garden.

It was immaculately kept, shrubbery and shapely trees perfectly trimmed and planted in specific locations. Not a single fallen leaf could be seen on the ground, and large, carefully placed boulders provided dark accents amidst the green. The sound of water channeling down rocks and splashing into a small pond mixed with the chirping of birds.

Adrien looked down at Kagami’s hand resting in the crook of his arm—her pale, sinewy fingers looked graceful, yet strong.

Regardless of what he felt toward Marinette, Kagami was special to him. He felt comfortable by her side. This garden reminded him of countless other gardens they had walked through together. Conversation with her was easy and natural. Who else did he have like this as a civilian? Who else could he freely spend his time with?

He unhooked her hand and held it tightly in his fingers.

Some desperation must have bled through his grip, because she turned to look at him, alarmed.

“Is something wrong, Adrien?”

He opened his mouth. He could say it now. “… Stressful day at work.”

She squeezed his hand, giving him a gentle smile. “Your father isn’t making it easy for you, is he?”

Adrien shook his head. His mouth felt dry. Words kept rising to his lips, then falling again.

Kagami tugged his hand over to the edge of the pond. The lithe forms of koi fish slid through the water, appearing and reappearing. “Just breathe, and listen,” Kagami coaxed.

Adrien did so, feeling himself slipping into a more comfortable headspace.

He felt a jab by his collarbone.

 _I know,_ he thought, unable to speak out loud. _I’m waiting for a good time._

He could almost hear Plagg’s voice answering, “When’s a good time to break someone’s heart?”

“Do you feel better?” Kagami asked.

He had been, slightly, but the reminder of what he had come here to do sent electric shocks of anxiety through his chest. He shook his head in the negative.

“What’s wrong? Did something else happen?”

Adrien licked his lips, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath through his nose. He turned to Kagami and pushed the words out before he could hesitate. “Kagami, I think we should break up.”

“… What?” She blinked several times, her eyes glossing over with shock and hurt. “Why? … What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything—it’s not your fault.” Adrien sighed and turned to look out over the pond, hoping his words came out genuine instead of cold. “I really care about you, and I don’t want to hurt you, Kagami. That’s why… I think I’m being unfair to you.”

“What are you talking about?” Kagami’s voice wavered despite her attempts to remain collected.

“It’s Marinette.”

“Marinette?”

A bird chirped loudly as neither spoke. Adrien glanced at Kagami, to see her shocked expression transition into something more focused and calculating.

“You cheated on me?”

“No!” Adrien threw up his hands in panic. “Of course not, no! I wouldn’t do that.”

Kagami’s eyes smouldered. “But you like her.”

Adrien opened his mouth to qualify, but that was the truth, so he shut it again and nodded.

Kagami’s eyes went glossy again and she looked away.

“Kagami, I’m sorry. I…”

She took two steps away as Adrien approached.

“I’m sorry,” he tried again. “I know. I’m scum. I’m trying to fix things. I didn’t want to lie to you.”

Kagami muttered something inaudible.

“What was that?” Adrien inquired.

She turned, her cheeks streaked with tears that had fallen silently. “I said, I forgive you.”

“Forgive me?”

“I mean… we can’t be perfect, right?” Despite the evidence of hurt drawn on her face, Kagami’s expression was grave and dignified. “I forgive you for thinking of another girl that way.”

“Kagami…” Adrien scrunched his brow. It didn’t seem like Kagami understood that he was trying to break up with her. “How can we have a relationship if I like someone else?”

“Do you not like me?” When Adrien didn’t answer right away, Kagami added hesitantly, “Did I force you into this? You never liked me back, did you?”

“No!” Adrien shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I’m the one who asked you on a date first, remember? It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just… I have feelings for Marinette.”

“Do you intend to date her?”

Adrien paused to consider. That was a few steps ahead of his thought process. He just didn’t want to keep feeling divided and like he was being dishonest with Kagami. Before he could answer, Kagami went on.

“Do you really think you can? Her career is just starting off… How would it look if she started dating you now, as you’re starting to pick up the reins of the Gabriel brand as the heir of the company? People would say she’s only doing well because you favor her…”

The truth of her words felt like rocks being dropped in his lungs, and he struggled to breathe evenly. “I guess I couldn’t,” he admitted, resigned. “It wouldn’t be wise.”

“So, you only want to break up with me because you feel guilty.”

Adrien looked away, trying to think of a way to counter her statement. He couldn’t. “I… guess you’re right. Yeah.” The words tightened like a noose around his heart.

“Well, I forgive you.”

He glanced at her. Her expression was soft, with a melancholy undertone.

“Unless you really dislike being with me. If you hate it, then… feel free to go.” She turned her head, shielding her eyes under her bangs as her composure faltered.

How could he say, _Okay, then I’ll go,_ without making her feel like she wasn’t good enough? Adrien knew Kagami. She might act tough, but she would take this personally. He didn’t know if their friendship could survive him throwing her aside that way. And he knew for a fact that Kagami wouldn’t have anyone to lean on for support.

And, anyway, he didn’t _hate_ being with her. He liked her immensely. He just didn’t _love_ her the way he did Marinette—if he was allowed to call it that, less than a week after realizing. He loved Kagami, maybe like a best friend, whom he didn’t mind kissing. That was close to real love, wasn’t it? Maybe he was being rash, after all. Maybe Kagami was right.

“Kagami… I don’t dislike being with you.” Plagg jabbed him again, and he winced. His gut sank—he knew exactly what was happening. Nonetheless, his foot was already in the sinking sand. “I mean, I like being with you.”

“But you don’t love me.” Kagami stepped away so her back was to Adrien, her head bowed.

He stepped forward and put his hand on her arm, hating to see her hurt like this. “I do love you, Kagami.” He opened his mouth to explain that he did love her, but maybe it wasn’t the kind of love she was looking for.

But at that moment, she turned, her eyes glittering with tears, her cheeks flushed, her face raw with pain and awe. “You do?”

He didn’t have the heart to finish his thought. Taking her face in both hands, he swiped the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs. “Yes, little tiger. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Fresh tears sprang from her eyes, replacing the rivulets Adrien had just cleared. “Don’t be sorry,” she said. “I love you.”

Sighing in resignation, Adrien enfolded her in his arms, rubbing her back. “I love you, too.”

At least she knew how he felt about Marinette now.

She even accepted it. So he didn’t have to feel like he was lying to her.

He wasn’t happy, but there had to be a better way to do this, without having to callously choose his own happiness at the expense of Kagami’s and losing her even as a friend.

There was too much at stake, and some of what Kagami said had thrown him for a loop. He was confused.

It didn’t have to be now. He needed time to figure things out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise....
> 
> Let me know your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> –
> 
> Edit: I actually rewrote the last few lines of this chapter. After working on the next chapter, I came back to read this one and didn't like the implication of the last few lines. What it says now more accurately reflects Adrien's thoughts.


	18. Foster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Plagg talk; Chat Noir feeds his addiction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Wow, while the general emotional response toward Adrien wasn't unexpected in light of the last chapter, I wasn't expecting so many comments. Love all the perspectives and opinions! Thanks for putting in your two cents! I hope this chapter helps make Adrien's mindset more understandable.
> 
> Enjoy~

Adrien raked a hand through his hair, feeling the heat rise from his scalp, and surveyed the room. He could have asked the staff for help, but this was a labor of love.

He had just finished relocating all the storage boxes, and the room was finally clear of junk, leaving only furniture. The walls didn’t look right, though. They were painted in shades of blue, and while his mother loved blue… the feeling wasn’t right. Blue was a sad color.

“Plagg… what color should I paint the walls?”

“I don’t know, kid. The only colors I care about are black, and cheese.” The kwami floated in front of Adrien’s face, nibbling on his ever-present wedge of Camembert. “Why don’t you ask your designer girlfriend?—Oh, yeah! She’s not your girlfriend, because you’re a spineless scaredy-cat who couldn’t say no to a pretty face.”

Adrien scowled, despite the butterflies in his stomach that accompanied the teasing mention of Marinette as his girlfriend. “Plagg, can you drop it already? I already told you why I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Yeah, yeah. You didn’t want to hurt her. Well, guess what, kid? Breakups hurt, so unless you’re okay with hurting her, you better get used to the idea of marrying sword girl.”

“That wasn’t all, Plagg.” Adrien took out his phone to make note of what to purchase for the room. He paused before jotting anything down, stuck on the Kagami train of thought. “Didn’t you hear what she was saying? If I had broken up with her last night, she would have taken it the wrong way, and I would have lost her completely—even as a friend. She made it seem like, if I broke up with her, it would mean I couldn’t stand her, or didn’t care about her. None of that is true.”

“Isn’t it normal to stop being friends when you humans break up?”

“Where did you learn that? TV?”

“C’mon, kid, you’re not my first Chat Noir. I know I don’t usually give you love advice, but I feel _so bad_ for you that I’m actually trying to share my infinite wisdom with you.” Plagg lunged at Adrien’s hair and tousled his bangs affectionately, earning a chuckle out of the blond.

“Maybe you’re right,” Adrien admitted, “but I don’t want it to be like that. Kagami is really important to me. I might see and talk to a lot of people every day, but I’m not close to anyone except her… and Marinette.” Pain shot through his chest at the mention of the latter, because how close were they really, when he couldn’t spend time with her without a mask? “And my father and Nathalie I guess, but they don’t count as ‘friends’…”

The fact that he could list four people didn’t make him feel much better about the situation. He realized he missed Nino and resolved to give him a call later.

Now, though, he had something to do, and a limited amount of time in which to accomplish it. He tried to wrestle his mind back onto the task at hand instead of waiting for Plagg to respond.

There was a good bookshelf, but the rest of the furniture wasn’t suitable. He’d move it out next time. 

_Desk._

_Comfortable armchair._

_Laptop._

_Webcam._

_Decorations??_

Adrien pressed his index knuckle into his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes at his phone screen. What kind of decorations? Paintings? Flowers? This was not his forte. He’d have to hit up Pinterest later.

Plagg interrupted his deliberations. “So, what are you gonna do now?”

“Now?” Adrien paused to carefully consider his answer. “Now, I need to make sure Kagami understands that I _do_ care about her, regardless of whether I want to be her boyfriend. I can't just dump her coldly without caring how things turn out between us. Her friendship is most important to me.”

“More important than bakery girl?”

“… I don’t know, Plagg.” He sighed wistfully, heart twisting with longing. “I love her, but things are complicated between us. Kagami, on the other hand—it’s not just hypothetical with her. We have something real, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to just… be alone…” His voice died down to a mumble as he finished the thought.

“You’ll never be alone.” Plagg tunneled in his collar and gave him a nuzzle. “I’m here! Don’t I count?” His playful, toothy grin faded when Adrien didn’t respond. “Hey, cheer up, kid. So you’re gonna find a way to break up with her _without_ losing her as a friend?”

Adrien sighed, frustrated to be forced to air out the thoughts that had been tormenting him nonstop for the past day—well, no, even longer than that, since he’d started to realize how he felt about Marinette. “Yes? But also, I don’t know. I like Kagami, and I enjoy her company. I like what we have. We actually _have_ a relationship. Maybe I’m being unfair.”

“Unfair? How?”

“Maybe it’s not right for me to love Marinette. Maybe I should try to make things work with Kagami. What she was saying made sense.”

Still inside Adrien’s collar, Plagg poked him in the neck with a very sharp claw.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“You’re being an idiot. Don’t listen to sword girl, she was just saying things to make you stay. She knows you don’t hate her, and you don’t have to stay with someone you’re not in love with.”

Adrien bit his lip and scrunched his brow. “Right. I’m _not_ in love with her.” He could feel tears of frustration starting to well up. “Plagg, you know this is my first ever relationship, right? I don’t know how things are supposed to work. When I started dating her, I figured since I like her and all, I could end up falling for her eventually. But then— _Marinette._ ” With a lovesick sigh, he sank into a rocking chair that was sitting haphazardly in the middle of the floor.

“Why are you confused, kid? You seem pretty sure you’re in love with bakery girl.”

“That’s the thing, Plagg… I only realized last week that I was in love with Marinette.” His cheeks burned as he said the words. “I mean, I don’t know. She was always special, but… if I loved her before, I didn’t think of it that way. It’s all still… really new, and I— _what is love, anyway?_ ”

“Don’t get all philosophical on me, kid.”

“I mean, the way she makes me feel—I _think_ I love her. But maybe I need to get to know her better first before I make any rash decisions?”

“So you’re gonna keep visiting her as Chat Noir?”

“I—uh—yeah?” Adrien looked at his kwami. “Is… that weird?”

“Kid.” Plagg stopped right in front of his charge, arms crossed, and Adrien wrinkled his nose as a puff of cheesy breath hit his nostrils. “You’re not free to date her as Adrien, so you’re catfishing her as Chat Noir. How is that not weird?”

“Catfishing?! What the heck, Plagg?” Adrien swatted at his kwami, who nonchalantly phased through his hand.

“Face it, kid. That’s what you’re doing.”

Adrien glared at Plagg. “You’re supposed to be supportive. Anyway, it’s not like I’m going to try to woo her or anything. I just want to be friends and get to know her… and, you know, be _sure_ that I love her.”

“You’re not sure?”

“I mean…” Adrien fished for words to explain what he was feeling. “I feel like I have a huge crush on her, and I’m intrigued by her, but I don’t know if that’s _love,_ you know? We _just_ started talking again after four years. And she doesn’t even know it’s me.” His face fell miserably.

Plagg shrugged. “Fair enough. Good point.”

“Plus, Kagami was right. We couldn’t be together now, anyway… maybe not even for a few years until she establishes her career on her own. The last thing I’d want is to put a mark on her reputation, and it’s just naïve to think that I can get away with doing whatever I want. I just feel like I need to be more mature about this before I start messing everything up. I mean, look where running after Ladybug for eight years got me.”

“Yeah, nowhere,” Plagg drawled, obnoxiously voicing what was implied. “And then, a rebound relationship.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Thanks for your insight, Plagg. My point is, I don’t know if I’m ready to start pining after someone I can’t have again. This is really starting to feel like Ladybug all over again…”

A miniscule frown crossed Plagg’s face. “Okay, so apparently, you _have_ put some thought into this. But why don’t you just get to know her as Adrien?”

Adrien shook his head emphatically. “Too risky.”

“What’s the risk?”

Adrien frowned, thinking. “I don’t want to draw any unwanted attention to her, that’s all. Especially when I’m still officially with Kagami. I wouldn’t even be able to have a conversation with her without people noticing. There’s no reason for me to be hanging around the studios talking to the interns. People love to gossip at the office, and all it takes is one picture from a mobile phone or one stray rumor to have this blow up into a huge scandal that could ruin her career.” He shuddered at the thought. “No way, I can’t do that to her.”

Plagg circled his charge, inspecting him in a way that reminded Adrien the kwami was thousands of years old. “Alright, kid. I get it.”

“Thanks for understanding me, Plagg,” Adrien smiled wryly. He checked his phone for the time, and cursed, springing to his feet. “Twenty minutes until Nathalie and Father get back from the opera. Help me move these books.”

—

“Y’know, kid… I just remembered something very interesting…”

Adrien brought a forkful of baked lemon-butter salmon and spinach to his mouth and raised an eyebrow at Plagg.

“Didn’t bakery girl have a crush on Chat Noir in collège?”

Adrien momentarily forgot to chew as he realized this was true. Not that he had _forgotten,_ but the physically taxing akuma battle loomed so much larger in his memory, it had practically slipped his mind that Marinette _had_ technically confessed to him.

“What if she still likes you? Wouldn’t it be a bad idea to be visiting her as Chat Noir?” Plagg landed on Adrien’s knife. “Things could get messy.”

“Plagg, I don’t know where your little rump has been. Get off my silverware.”

“Kwamis are always clean,” Plagg preened, refusing to get up. “You’re avoiding the issue.”

“No I’m not, because it’s a non-issue. There’s no way Marinette would hold onto a crush on a superhero for eight years.”

“Right, because no one has a crush on a superhero for eight years.” Plagg leered at Adrien.

Adrien grabbed the knife, but Plagg remained sitting in the same spot in the air, his little legs crossed. “There’s no comparison. Ladybug is my partner, and I see her regularly.”

Plagg stifled a laugh, and Adrien shot him a look. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing, kid. So you’re _still_ going to visit her?”

“Of course! How else am I going to be sure if I’m doing the right thing? I told you, I can’t talk to her at the office. Get off my case.”

Plagg held up his paws. “All right, all right, kid. Ignore this gentle warning from a wise and ancient being.”

“Yeah, a wise and ancient being who caused the destruction of the entire living population of the earth and several ancient civilizations. I’m soooo going to regret not taking your advice.” Adrien rolled his eyes and took another bite.

—

As if unable to resist the inexorable pull of the undertow, Chat Noir found himself on that same, sturdy branch again, gazing longingly at Marinette’s French doors. He didn’t throw anything this time. Just a few more seconds of harmless pining, and he’d leave.

Just as he was detaching his staff to vault away, the door clicked and slid open. Marinette peeked out, her hair loose and a little tousled, cheeks pink. When she spotted Chat Noir, she smirked, tucking her hair behind an ear. “So you _were_ out here. Hey, Minou.”

“Hey, Princess.” He managed a weak smile, feeling caught red-handed and unsure how to act around her. He couldn’t help but stare at how charming she looked, her bluebell eyes looking even bluer in contrast to her flushed cheeks, framed prettily by her bangs. “How did you know?”

Marinette shrugged and grinned. “Spidey senses?”

“You would look good in red spandex,” Chat blurted out before he could stop himself.

He mentally cursed and kicked himself. It was bad enough to be visiting her and talking to her. No. More. Flirting.

Meanwhile, Marinette was cracking up. She wiped tears from her eyes.

Chat pouted, from the depths of his self-torment. “It wasn’t that funny.”

“Sorry, Chaton.” Calming down, she fully emerged from the doors and, shutting them behind her, came to sit at her bamboo table. She was dressed in baggy sweatpants and a form-fitting black tank top. She must have seen him look down and added, “Don’t judge my outfit, I was doing a dance workout. Aren’t you coming?”

His heart thumped at the invitation, but he shook his head. “I shouldn’t, Princess. I just happened to be passing by and thought of saying hello.”

“… Okay.”

He didn’t have to leave right away, though. The air was still, and they were talking comfortably despite the slight distance. “How was your day, Princess?”

“Oh, it was okay. A little stressful.”

“What happened?”

“It’s been tense at the office since yesterday. We were waiting for a release and never got it, so everyone’s griping about how we’re not going to meet our deadlines.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I think it’ll all be fine. Everyone just _loves_ a reason to complain.” She rolled her eyes. 

“It’s nice that you can be positive about it.” Chat looked at her adoringly. “I hope things settle down soon.”

Marinette smiled ruefully. “The one I really feel bad for is Gabriel Agreste’s son.”

Chat’s eyes widened, and he fought a blush at the news that she had been paying attention to him. “Oh? Why?”

“Since he’s so approachable, everyone’s been going off on him about their drama. All things they’d never dare to say to Gabriel, of course. I think he’s handling it beautifully, though.” Her face brightened with a smile.

“… Ah.” Chat didn’t know what to say. He wanted to say, _Thank you._ He wanted to launch himself at her balcony and tackle her in a hug. He wanted to cry.

He turned his face to avoid her seeing just that.

“Sorry, Princess, I think I’d better go,” he said in a rush, moving toward the trunk of the tree.

Then, he almost lost his balance when the branch bounced unexpectedly.

“Get back here, you! I saw that face.”

As soon as he turned, something hit his forehead with the sound of crinkling plastic. He caught it and looked down, finding a neatly wrapped macaron in a familiar shade of pale orange. “Passion fruit?”

“You’ll love it, Minou. Come tell me what’s wrong,” Marinette’s cajoling voice called out from closer than he expected.

He looked up and nearly screamed when he saw her, knees up on the balcony rail, one foot on a large flower pot to steady herself, one hand gripping the rail and the other outstretched to grasp the branch with her fingertips. She gave it another bounce.

“Get down!” He yelled in terror, afraid to move in case he made the branch tug her hand and throw off her balance. He’d seen Marinette meet too many disastrous fates not to imagine the worst case scenario.

She climbed down gracefully. “Relax, Chaton! I’m fine!” She frowned. “But you’re not. Come on, get down here. I owe you something. I doubt you’re as pressed for time as you make it seem.”

He obliged, ears drooping, wondering what she thought she owed him.

As soon as his boots touched the balcony, Marinette sprang on him, jabbing his ribs with her skinny fingers until he burst out laughing. “Cheer up, Minou! Why the long face?” she giggled, then with two fingers, tickled a spot on his neck that was especially sensitive. He shrieked and grabbed her wrist with his free hand, careful not to scratch or hurt her. Despite her exuberance, she still felt fragile in comparison to his miraculous suit.

Finally, she stopped tickling him and, when he let go of her, slipped her arms under his, embracing him warmly. She lay her ear on his chest and stroked his back with both hands. “I hope you like your hug of the day, Chat Noir. Now you can be on your way, if you feel better.”

Chat Noir sighed, trying not to purr. He was certain she could hear how she was affecting him from his heartbeat alone. He _loved_ this girl. “Do I have to?” he whined, nuzzling his cheek against her hair.

“I’m not kicking you out. _You’re_ the one who wanted to go.” She pulled away and gave him a sidelong glance, her eyes twinkling with teasing charm.

“Who said I wanted to go?” _I should, though._

“What made you so sad when I mentioned Adrien?”

She peered at him intently, and his brain groped for a response.

“Why, my Princess,” he bluffed, “purrrhaps this gentlecat wasn’t too happy about you paying attention to another dashing young man.”

He hoped she couldn’t see that he was blushing. He hoped the act was extravagant enough to make her certain he was joking. He hoped she’d be distracted enough not to ask again.

He didn’t expect her to look away, suddenly deflating, and murmur, “Silly Minou. I know you’re joking, but even if you weren’t, you don’t have to worry about Adrien. There’s nothing between us—he has a girlfriend.”

Those words hurt more than he was ready for, so much that his attention skipped over her abrupt change in behavior.

Her words were a harsh reminder that she didn’t really know with whom she was doing all this. These moments on her balcony were inconsequential. He couldn’t build a relationship with her like this. And _Adrien_ couldn’t build a relationship with her now, period. The thought was depressing, and his desire to stay withered.

“Thanks for risking your life to cheer me up, Marinette,” he said with a pained smile, kissing her hand and reveling in the feel of her smooth skin against his lips, since he couldn’t feel anything through his gloves. “Please don’t do that again, though. I really have to go now.”

“Oh. Okay…” Marinette gave him a soft smile as she took her hand back. Did she seem disappointed, or was that his wishful thinking? “See you another time, Chaton?”

“Another time,” he returned, and tore himself away. As he bounded away from her apartment, he caught sight of her small, white face, framed with dark locks, resting on her palm on the balcony as she watched him leave. The most precious sight—her eyes watching him.

He cradled the plastic-wrapped macaron against his chest like a baby bird. He should eat it while it was fresh, but part of him wanted to treasure the gift forever.

Inside him, a bubbling thought warmed and consumed him, resounding in his heart and mind.

_I love her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked the chapter. Let me know your thoughts. Does Adrien's thought process make sense? Is it wrong of him to visit Marinette?
> 
> Just to let you guys know, I will be joining a two-week orchestra intensive that's starting next Wednesday, so there might be only 1-2 updates before a long hiatus. Sorry. I'll miss writing this story.


	19. Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Kagami go shopping.

“How do you make a place look inviting?” Adrien looked down at his phone and scrolled through a Pinterest feed of comfortable-yet-chic looking interiors.

“Let me see.” Kagami turned his wrist to angle the phone toward her.

He gave the phone to her, looking around at the selection of home decor items arrayed before them, eyes landing on some fake succulents in stylish pots. “Plants? These are cute.”

“You’d need a shelf to put those on.”

“Well, there’s the bookshelf.”

“That would work. Why not real plants, though?”

Adrien shrugged. “I don’t know if he’d take care of them.”

“Nathalie would,” Kagami pointed out.

Adrien looked uncertain. “You’re right, but I don’t want to give her even more work…”

“It’s just a bit of water once a week or so. Plants are easy.”

“… Okay, then. Let’s go to the nursery after this.”

Kagami typed in a different search term and perused the results thoughtfully. “Did you decide what color to paint the walls yet?”

“Not yet,” Adrien moaned. “Something neutral? I suck at this. I wish I could ask Marinette for help.” Even if he did dare to text her for advice, he’d have to explain what the room was for. Marinette had often ranted to him in the past about the importance of background and context in design. And right now, their relationship wasn’t close enough to get to that point—not as Adrien, anyway.

At the mention of Marinette’s name, Kagami stopped scrolling on Adrien’s phone, but she didn’t look up.

Adrien noticed. “I mean, she’s a designer. She knows more about colors than anyone,” he explained, feeling attacked despite the fact that Kagami hadn’t said anything yet. “That’s all.”

“Of course.” Kagami forced a smile and handed Adrien’s phone back. “What about neutral creams for three of the walls, one accent wall in a darker beige, and teal accent items? Like throw pillows and flower pots?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s great. Mom loved teal.”

Kagami’s expression said, ‘ _What do you need Marinette for?’_ She went on. “The rest of the decor should be in neutrals from white to light brown, so only the teal items pop. Ah, and gold would be a nice secondary accent.”

“Ooh, I love the gold idea.” Adrien grinned. “Everything sounds good… help me pick.”

Kagami chose a few items and put them in the cart. “Doesn’t she have anything in the house you can use to decorate? And make it more personal?”

Adrien thought grimly of the storage boxes he had cleared from the nursery, dust-covered from neglect over the past eight years since Gabriel had packed them away. “She has a few things, yes, but I don’t want to overdo it with the painful reminders.”

“Okay, well… it’s a small room, so these things should be fine for now. We can buy more things once we set everything up and see what’s lacking. Shall we check out the throw pillows? They’re in the next aisle.”

“Sure.”

As Kagami led the way, Adrien followed absent-mindedly, his thoughts lingering on a different interior.

“The inside of Marinette’s apartment looks really nice,” he remarked dreamily, without thinking. “Of course she’d be great at interior design, too. She’s so talented.”

Kagami’s short locks flew as she whipped around to look at him. “You’ve been inside her apartment?”

Adrien’s cheeks colored. “No,” he lied, feeling horrible about doing it. At any rate, it wasn’t _Adrien_ who had been inside her apartment, so at least Marinette would agree with his answer if Kagami decided to ask. “She showed me pictures.”

“Why?”

“I—she told me she moved into a new place, and I asked if she had any pictures. Just to make conversation.”

The ferocity of Kagami’s eyes made him feel like he was under interrogation before a firing squad. “I thought you said you barely saw her at work. Now you’ve been talking?”

“Ah—no, I mean, it came up because she was late, and she came to apologize and say it was because she was still getting used to her commute.” That part was true, at least. It had happened a few months ago, though she hadn’t shown him any photos at the time. It felt uncomfortable to lie. He hoped that Kagami would just forget it and move on.

Kagami’s glare was withering. “She’s still coming late? Don’t let her slack just because you like her, Adrien.”

“I’m not, and anyway, she’s not bad at all. Camille tells me she’s usually on time, and she’s a hard worker who often stays into the evenings or works late from home when there’s a deadline coming up. Even if she did come in late, I couldn’t fault her for it. Father’s very pleased with her, too.”

“Okay.” Kagami held up a hand to stop the onslaught of praise for Marinette. “I get it. She’s a good girl.”

Adrien’s thoughts had run away with the topic of Marinette’s much-improved tardiness. He couldn’t stifle the laugh that bubbled from his chest when he recalled the way Marinette used to run into class with her cheeks stuffed with breakfast, half the time tripping over someone’s bag and still smoothing her hair as if she’d styled it on the way. “You should’ve seen her in collège. _Fashionably_ late almost every day—I couldn’t _believe_ it, since she lived across the street. She’s too funny!” He cackled uncontrollably.

Kagami’s expression shifted into a pained grimace of distaste. “Really, Adrien? Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Doing what?”

“… Are you going to be like this from now on?”

Realizing he was being insensitive, Adrien opened his mouth, an apology on his lips—but at the last moment he decided to use this to his advantage. “… Kagami, I told you how I felt about her.”

Kagami looked away, bracing her arms in a defensive pose. Her voice came out in a monotone. “All right. Fine. I just don't know why you have to talk about her so much when you're spending time with me. I’m sorry I’m not good enough to hold your attention.”

Adrien touched her shoulder and applied gentle pressure to turn her around, but Kagami resisted, stubbornly keeping her gaze trained on something to her right. Adrien took her chin in his thumb and forefinger and turned her to face him. “I'm sorry, Kagami. You’re more than good enough. You’re my best friend, and one of the people I respect most in the world.”

“But?” she prompted cynically.

Adrien sighed. “But I love Marinette.”

“You _love_ her?” Kagami’s lips tugged down, and the slight flush that appeared under her freckles betrayed the fact that she was harboring intense emotions under her otherwise deadpan expression.

“ _Yes,_ ” Adrien emphasized. “If it hurts you so much, we should break up.”

“How do you know you love her if you barely even talk?” Kagami seemed offended, ignoring Adrien’s suggestion. “You’re just infatuated.”

“No, I’m not.” Adrien crossed his arms indignantly. “I know how I feel.”

“You said you loved me…” Kagami mumbled.

“I do… in a different way.”

Kagami looked at her feet dejectedly, resembling a timid teenager more than the fierce fighter she usually channeled.

Adrien felt bad, but he didn’t back down. He had to make her understand.

Clenching her fists, Kagami took a deep breath, lifted her head, and stepped over to pluck a teal throw pillow from a nearby shelf. “This is cute. What do you think?”

“Yeah, cute,” Adrien grumbled, starkly aware of her once again sidestepping his suggestion to break up. Whatever—maybe she wasn’t ready yet. He was willing to be patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thanks for reading.
> 
> This was a pretty short chapter. What did you think?


	20. Kettle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whether it makes sense or not, whether it's right or not, Chat Noir can't stay away from Marinette for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> So, this chapter and the last are meant to be like "snapshots" of how life is going lately as time passes. They might have had multiple similar encounters. The scenario will start shifting in the next few chapters.
> 
> For this chapter, have this YouTube video ready and play it when the time is right (you will know)—the songs don't match up, but it'll set the mood:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3jWRrafhO7M
> 
> (Sorry, I couldn't resist! I came across this playlist and couldn't unsee Adrien playing it.)

“I was wondering if you’d come by.” Marinette closed her sketchbook and straightened up, crossing her legs like a pretzel in her lawn chair.

Chat Noir found it incredibly cute how she could still fit comfortably in the chair, sitting in such a childish way. 

“We’re becoming good friends now, aren’t we, Chaton?” Marinette grinned.

“The best of friends.” He winked and flashed a winning smile, hoping to make her blush… she didn’t. Ah well, worth a try. “By the way, how’s learning the piano going?”

“Heh… not going, really. I’ve been busy with work lately, so I haven’t had time to practice. And I’m not taking lessons or anything, so… still as lame as ever.”

“Don’t sweat it, Princess.” He perked up as an idea hit him. “Hey, how about I play for you?” That was a friendly, non-flirty thing to do. His guilty conscience could be okay with that.

Marinette quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say you couldn’t?”

“Not while transformed.” Chat tilted his head, chasing a wink with his cutest kitty smile as he let the implication set in.

“Chat Noir…” She leveled him with a warning look that reminded him of the way Ladybug got when he pushed the line with their identities.

Chat laughed off her seriousness. “C’mon, Princess, don’t be like that. You think I’m trying to reveal myself to you? I know better than to play with fire. We’ve got eyelids for a reason. Go ahead, make yourself comfortable on the couch and close your eyes.”

She tapped her lips with a finger and hummed, feigning deep deliberation. “I don’t know, Chat… seems a little risky.”

“What’s risky about it? You’ll be nice and safe on the couch, temptation-free. Unless I’m so good that you can’t resist taking a peek.” He grinned his trademark Chat Noir grin, more wolfish than catlike.

Marinette shot him a look that could curdle milk.

Chat deflated. “Okay, you’re a warrior princess—I respect you. I know you’d never cave and look. That’s why I trust you!”

Marinette’s expression was still dubious, but her lips quirked up at the corners, showing that her resolve was crumbling.

Chat gave another push. “Don’t you want to hear me play? I’m willing to bet you will _love_ these songs I have in store for you.”

“… All right, fine, you win. I really do want to hear you play.” With a smile, she stood up and unlatched the door, holding it open for him. “After you, Minou. No funny business.”

“Thank you, Princess!” He bounded inside excitedly. He knew Marinette would be squealing in minutes. He slid into the piano bench as Marinette followed him in and settled into the couch. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

“Ready—Wait, hold on. Let me heat water for tea.”

“Go ahead.”

While Marinette put on the kettle, Chat Noir ghosted his fingers on the keys, brushing up his memory.

“Okay, you can detransform.”

Chat glanced over and took in a side-view of Marinette curled up on the couch, sunken into the cushions, her lips peacefully upturned.

“Don’t do anything shocking,” she warned. “I might accidentally look.”

“The only thing that would shock you is how stunningly handsome I am,” Chat joked.

“Don’t make this hard for me,” Marinette teased back.

He blushed, abandoning the sinking ship. 

He realized he felt very nervous. He was about to detransform in front of Marinette. There would be nothing but two paper-thin layers of skin separating this moment from the utter chaos of Marinette finding out it had been Adrien Agreste, her boss’s son and a taken man, visiting her home all along.

Terror clawed at his chest, and he was about to call it off, when Marinette called out quietly, “Minou?”

He took a deep breath and glanced at her, waiting patiently with her eyes closed, her forehead furrowed with concern due to his lack of response. She had felt reservations about doing this, but she trusted him enough to let him. He decided that he trusted her.

“Claws in.”

As the magic left him, materializing in the form of a tiny floating cat beside him, and the world didn’t implode, a mad grin swept across Adrien’s face.

Plagg shot a questioning look between him and Marinette.

“All in good fun,” Adrien assured him quietly. Yes—this was fun, not terrifying. “Marinette knows about kwamis, so you don’t have to be too subtle.”

Letting a momentary silence clear the air in preparation for the music, Adrien pressed the opening jazz chords of the first number, butter-smooth. Since the style was different from the original arrangement, it took a moment for Marinette to recognize what he was playing, but her reaction betrayed the exact moment when she did.

“Oh my gosh, Minou!!!” Marinette squealed, sitting up in excitement with her eyes still closed.

Adrien smirked. He had expected this reaction. He knew her favorite Ghibli films and which songs she played on repeat while stitching for hours.

“Merry Go Round of Life—a jazz version? I _love_ it!! You’ve watched Howl’s Moving Castle, Chat?”

“Of course, Princess,” Adrien answered without stopping. _I’m the one who recommended it to you, after all._ “It’s my favorite. Don’t you think I’m as charming as Howl?”

“Much _more_ charming,” Marinette replied slyly, and Adrien’s heart skipped a beat. “If by charming, you mean over-the-top and ridiculously dramatic.”

He chuckled. “Ah, but Princess, you’re far too kind.”

Marinette snorted and settled back into listening. “The jazz style sounds so cool! You’re really good, Chaton.”

He soaked up the praise, feeling on top of the world. Plagg jumped on the keys, dodging Adrien’s fingers, a game he often played to make his chosen’s practice sessions more fun. Adrien laughed when Plagg was too slow and he felt the odd sensation of his finger going through his kwami.

“Ouch, speared me, kid!” Plagg teased and fell dramatically onto the keyboard, letting the keys buffet his little body, tossing him here and there.

Adrien laughed again at Plagg’s antics.

“Is that your kwami?” Marinette asked. “You guys are cute.”

Plagg flew over to say hello.

The kettle started to whistle. 

“Chat,” Marinette nudged.

Right, she couldn’t get up and walk around while he was detransformed.

He stopped playing. “Got it.”

“The tea bags are in the top drawer to the left of the stove… take your pick.”

Adrien switched off the kettle and opened the drawer to find a variety of colorful boxes neatly nestled together like a Tetris board. “And for the Princess?”

“Plum for me, please!”

“And cheese for me!” Plagg piped up.

He found the box labeled _‘Plum Tea’_ in Chinese.

“It’s the pink box in the front,” Marinette guided him unnecessarily.

“Found it.” He knew where she kept the mugs, so he took two out of the cabinet, selecting for her the red one he’d seen her use before.

“Ah, and there’s cheese in the fridge.”

There was only Gruyère, but Plagg liked it well enough.

“Just to let you know, my favorite’s Camembert,” Adrien heard Plagg tell Marinette in a stage-whisper. Funny how well they seemed to be getting along. Nothing seemed to faze Marinette. What an admirable girl.

“Which tea did you pick, Chaton?” Marinette asked curiously.

“Plum.” He smiled to himself. “So we can share the experience, to make up for the fact that you can’t see me.”

Marinette snorted. “What a sap.”

Once the tea had finished steeping, he brought the mugs over and placed Marinette’s on the coffee table by her knees. “Careful with your fingers—it’s hot.” He set his own on a round mini-table by the piano, beside a photo of Marinette posing in the bakery with her parents. He missed the bakery.

“Any requests?”

“Finish Howl’s first. It’s my favorite!” Marinette gave him a pleading smile, eyes squeezed shut adorably. “Actually, could you start over? Please?”

“Anything for you, Princess.” He started over.

She listened in contented silence, and Plagg came to dance on the keys some more.

After finishing, she gave him enthusiastic applause. He moved on to another Ghibli jazz number, this time from Spirited Away, smiling at the appreciative noises she made.

In the middle of playing, she stopped him. “Okay, pause.”

“Hmm?”

“Your tea’s getting cold! Why don’t you drink some before you continue?”

“As the Princess wishes.”

He stopped and took a sip. It was pleasantly warm, instead of hot—the perfect temperature to drink. She must have known because hers was that temperature right now, too. Adrien smiled, savoring their shared experience more than the tea.

“How did you know I would like this music?” she asked.

“Just a hunch.”

The transient perfection of this moment—drinking tea with Marinette, the memory of Ghibli jazz lingering in the air like a fragrance—made his heart ache. It was like freshly fallen cherry blossom petals on their last breath before decay. He sighed, watching her eyelids tremble with the effort to stay shut. 

This moment didn’t belong to him, Adrien Agreste. It belonged to Chat Noir. Chat Noir, who could be anybody. Or nobody.

He could run into Marinette at the office tomorrow. Unlikely, but possible. If he did, she’d give him her usual professional greeting, and the same smile she gave everyone.

That thought felt like a punch to the stomach.

He placed his hands on the keys and started to play again, shifting his mind away from these distressing thoughts. The chill, whimsical notes that filled the air seemed laced with melancholy this time. Maybe only in his own ears, though.

As he played, he watched her longingly. She and Plagg were talking in voices too low for him to overhear over the piano. A sad smile tugged his lips when she doubled over, giggling. The pain settled deeper into his chest, the longer the moment wore on.

“Want to watch one together when you’re done, Chat?” Marinette asked in a small voice.

“‘Watch one’?” He stopped playing and stared at her incredulously. “A Ghibli film?”

“Yeah, whichever one you want—I have the collection. You put me in the mood.”

His chest warmed. Marinette hadn’t watched any Ghibli films before he introduced them to her, and now she loved them enough that she had the whole collection? He counted this as a conquest, as proof that they were two peas in a pod.

There was work waiting for him at home, but nothing he minded losing sleep over if it meant a couple more hours basking in Marinette’s presence. “I’d love to, Princess. How about now?”

“One more song, please?”

“How could I refuse?”

He played one last, an upbeat, jazzy version of the Totoro opening theme song. Marinette wiggled her shoulders in a playful accompanying dance, Plagg doing the same in the airspace around her.

_Cute._

Smiling at her fondly, he beckoned Plagg and called his transformation back on.

“Open your eyes, Princess.”

When Marinette opened her eyes, she was bursting with glee and enthusiasm to convince Chat Noir of his talents. “Chat, you’re amazing! I can’t believe you play so well.”

He gave her a lopsided smile. “Only because a beautiful girl was listening.”

This time, she did blush, which did something to soothe the ache in Chat Noir’s chest.

“Want to watch Howl’s Moving Castle?” Marinette asked. “You said it’s your favorite, right? Or—whichever one you want.”

“Sure. But next time, Kiki’s Delivery Service. It’s about you and me.” He winked. “Though, honestly, Jiji acts more like Plagg.”

Marinette laughed. “You got it, Minou.”

 _Next time_ —the words echoed in Chat Noir’s mind like a dangerously enticing promise.

How had they fallen into this?

—

In the middle of the film, Marinette suddenly slid an arm behind Chat’s back and draped her other arm across his stomach, nestling her head in the dip between his shoulder and chest.

Melting against her, Chat wrapped his arm around her. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for my charms, Princess,” he joked, the line falling from his lips as naturally as an exhalation. He barely even felt guilty for flirting with her anymore. It was inevitable. She was irresistible.

“This is your hug of the day.” Her voice sounded more serious than he would have expected. “I can tell when you’re sad, Minou.”

“Wow, Princess. Are you sure you don’t have super powers?” He tightened his grip and rested the corner of his mouth on her head, inhaling her scent—rose shampoo and something sweetly Marinette—wishing to press a kiss to her hair if that weren’t crossing the line. 

Marinette didn’t answer, but she hugged him tighter, taking his response as confirmation that he was feeling down.

They stayed like that for the rest of the movie, then Chat Noir went home, feeling like a moth whose wings had been crippled by the flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think of this chapter?
> 
> So, today, I came to the realization that I accidentally diverged from the story that I originally wanted to tell, months ago when I first had the idea for this fic (and before Marichat got involved—it was going to be Adrien and Marinette). Adrien was going to earnestly try to make things work with Kagami, having idealistic hopes and expectations for his first relationship and blind to the signs that it wasn't working out, and Marinette was going to be the person he would vent to and 'let down his hair' around. I'm going to keep writing this story as it is, but I still really want to work with the original idea.
> 
> So, I might go back and either heavily edit this series before recording it for YouTube, so that the YouTube story is _quite_ a bit different from this one, _or_ I might do an additional, short spinoff alternative version of this series. Much shorter, maybe eight parts or so. What do you guys think? Which would you prefer?
> 
> Also, as I mentioned before, starting tomorrow I'll be doing a rigorous orchestra training program, so I'll be scarce for the next two weeks. There _probably_ won't be any more updates until Monday, 8/12 at best. So.... ta ta for now. Stay beautiful, mes amours. :')


	21. Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat Noir spots Marinette on his way to patrol.

Chat Noir ran along the rooftops toward Notre Dame, the meeting place with Ladybug that day, his mind full of Marinette. He couldn’t stop thinking about how soft and warm she felt in his arms, and how perfectly intoxicating her sweet scent was.

He had picked up his mother’s copy of _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_ and read the first few chapters. Maybe, after patrol, he could visit her to talk about it.

And—speak of the angel, there she was. His heart leapt as a familiar dark head emerged from the subway, hair pulled into a bun, the breeze tugging at the loose tendrils in front of her ears. A millennial pink purse was looped over her shoulder, which he recognized from the sample room, one of last season’s pieces—it must have been the one Celeste delivered at his request. He smiled at the fact that she was using it.

She was dressed in a fitted navy blue shirt and a floral skirt in warm hues, tied at the waist with a wide sash and flaring to her mid-calf. Her pointy-toed red suede flats padded the concrete in a walk befitting to a dancer as she made her way… toward her apartment, he assumed.

Where was she coming from? The office? It wouldn’t be the first time she went in on a Sunday. He wondered why she had gotten off the subway so soon—he didn’t know the system well, but there had to be a stop closer to her apartment. Was she going to take a bus? Maybe he could offer her a lift instead.

Heart palpitating, he followed her, and was about to call out when he witnessed something that turned his whole world upside down.

She turned into an alley, looked left and right to check for potential observers—she didn’t think to look up—opened her purse, and called out, “Tikki, spots on!”

The little red blob that zoomed out of her purse was telling. The wash of pink magic that engulfed her was unmistakable.

 _What…?_ Reeling, he ducked and flattened himself against the ledge of the roof he was crouched on, mouth hanging open in shock, forgetting to breathe. _What? What?!_

He replayed the transformation in his mind, seriously questioning if he was awake and sane.

Marinette was Ladybug.

_Marinette is Ladybug!_

Chat Noir’s brain ceased to function as this line became a frenzied mantra that paralyzed him to the spot. He couldn’t even begin to make sense of it.

He was supposed to be meeting her right now.

The thought filled him with terror. How was he supposed to act? Did he even know Ladybug? Did he even know Marinette?

He’d fallen in love with her twice. _Twice._ The thought was both blissful and dreadful. She truly _must_ be the one for him. Even when blind, he’d chosen her! Yet, he was terrified of how much power she had over him. He couldn’t escape from her. She was like a black hole, and he was swirling on the event horizon, orbiting her.

She must know it. She could read him effortlessly. Surely she knew what she was doing to him.

Yet, she kept inviting him back. She had hugged him. She gave him her warmth and love without reservation. She had even kissed him—albeit platonically. Or was it? Could her feelings have changed?

Chat Noir felt the thudding of his heart resonating throughout his whole body. His hands trembled as he lifted his baton and extended it. Hope gave him strength and stability, and he managed to make his way to Notre Dame without incident.

Ladybug was on top of the North Tower, laying on one slanted section of the octagonal roof, hands tucked behind her head. When Chat Noir made contact, she sat up and smiled brightly. “Hey, Chaton.”

 _My love! Sweet Bugaboo! Princess!_ Chat Noir’s heart sang, and he struggled to reign himself in. “H-hi,” he managed.

Ladybug’s smile faded. “Everything okay, Minou?”

 _Minou…_ the lovely way her lips and tongue formed the syllables… he should have recognized it. He stepped closer, magnetized. “M-Ma—” Hesitation stopped him like an iron clamp. He wasn’t ready to admit that he knew. What would she say? What would she do? He wasn’t ready for the consequences. “Ladybug. I—um—er, yeah. Everything’s fine, purrrfectly fine!”

Ladybug raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Why are you acting so weird?”

 _Because you’re the love of my life, and I’m panicking!_ “Uhhh…” Chat shook his head. This wasn’t working. “Nothing, ignore me! Patrol?”

She didn’t buy it. Standing ever-so-gracefully, she came right up to him and cupped his cheeks in her hands, peering into his eyes. “What’s wrong, Chaton?”

His mouth went dry, watching her lips as she spoke. His breath hitched at the closeness of her face, like a radiant sun that he shied away from looking at too directly. He met her eyes, endlessly blue, luminous as they caught the rays of afternoon light.

“Chaton? Breathe.” Her face grew more concerned. “What’s wrong? I’m getting worried.”

“I love you,” he exhaled.

She blinked, and her brow scrunched slightly as she lifted her hands from his face. “Chat, don’t play around. I asked you if something was wrong. Something _must_ be wrong… talk to me, Chaton.”

Her dismissive response felt like a dull knife scraping his heart. He felt as vulnerable as if he’d confessed for the first time. And, to him, it _was_ the first time—that he’d confessed to Marinette, at least—or rather, this wonderful, perfect woman who was his two favorite people in the world rolled into one breathtaking package.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He had already put one foot in the water. May as well go all in. “I’m in love with you, Ladybug. You’re—you’re amazing. You’ve taken me over, conquered me, I—I’m a slave in love with you, Ma—Ladybug. I’m at your mercy.” He gazed at her helplessly, wishing her skeptical look would melt into one of elation, that she would throw her arms around his neck and kiss him.

That didn’t happen. Instead, she crossed her arms. “Minou… why now? You know you’re important to me… but we’ve been over this…” Her voice grew quieter and quieter, as if it pained her to speak the words. She didn’t have to say ‘I don’t feel the same way,’ for him to get the message, loud and clear.

Her reticence was like a fishhook that speared his heart from below, tugging it into the depths of despair. It was the same old, tired dance. His words were nothing special to her. Just like the countless other confessions he’d spoken over the years. How could she know that this confession was different? He could see her now, and the love he felt was overwhelming.

Nothing about her rejection was different from any other time in the past. She hadn’t changed. She never changed. It was why he had given up on pursuing her romantically long ago.

He felt like walls were closing in on him. If she still didn’t love him, why act so sweet as Marinette? Why make him fall for her a second time, only to reject him again? He reached out and touched her cheek. “Why are you torturing me?”

“Torturing you? Minou…” she frowned. “What do you mean? What did I do?”

How well did he really know her, anyway? It wasn’t fair. He felt like the wool had been ripped from his eyes. Suddenly, what had been a dazzling revelation was becoming the most horrible nightmare. Hurt and anger flared inside him, the ignorant concern and confusion in her eyes only adding fuel to the fire.

“Don’t play dumb,” he blurted out bitterly before he could stop himself. “Why are you doing this to me? Are you testing me? Playing with me? Do you like how it feels to have someone wrapped around your finger? Do you think it’s fun to give me hope, only to crush it again? Haven’t you had enough of that over the years?” It didn’t seem like her to play with his emotions—it seemed too cruel, but her actions didn’t make any sense otherwise.

“What are you _talking_ about, Chat Noir?” Frustration started to seep into her tone. “When did I give you hope? I don’t understand you!”

“When did you give me hope? Don’t play innocent now, Marinette! Didn’t I tell you I’d love the girl under the mask? You know I’m weak for you! Why would you do this to me?”

A chilling silence descended upon them as Ladybug froze in shock. Chat’s words came back to him, and he realized what he had said, what he had called her. He lifted a hand to his mouth.

“You know…? How…?”

“I never thought you, of all people, would forget to look up,” Chat whispered hoarsely.

“Chat, I—oh, my God.” Ladybug looked horrified. She reached out to touch his arm, but he flinched away, taking a step back. “Wait! It’s not like that, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t playing with you. I care about you, Chat Noir!”

“But you don’t love me,” he finished for her. “Well, that’s the problem, because I love _you_. I’ve loved you for _eight years_ , Marinette. That’s more than a third of my lifetime! Why did you let me fall in love with you again? You knew what was happening. You _know_ me. How can you be so cruel?”

“Could you stop calling me ‘Marinette’ in public?” Ladybug hissed.

“I just spilled my heart out to you, and that’s all you can say?” Chat wailed desperately. “We’re sixty-nine meters up in the air—who’s going to hear us, the pigeons?! 

“Okay.” Ladybug put her hands on his shoulders and looked him squarely in the eyes. “Calm down, Chat Noir. You’re overreacting. Let’s talk like adults, please.”

“Overreacting? I’m not overreacting. Can you even imagine how much I love you?” Even now, he was getting lost in her blue eyes. Why was she so irresistible? He wanted to give up being angry, hug her, press kisses to her cheeks, and tell her everything was okay, that he didn’t mind loving her even though she didn’t love him back…

Except he did mind. He was tired of falling into this trap. Again, and again, and again. Why couldn’t he escape from her? He was _furious_ with her. He took hold of one slender, beautiful, perfect wrist and peeled her hand away from his shoulder, shrugging off her other one.

“Chat!” Ladybug’s voice was high with a note of hysteria.

“No,” Chat forced out through clenched teeth, unhooking his staff. “Sorry, LB, I need to go. I can’t right now. I can’t do this. See you next week… maybe.”

“‘Maybe’?! What is that supposed to mean? Don’t just leave!” She followed close on his heels as he stepped toward the guard rail of the tower. “This isn’t fair, Chat! I don’t even know your name! If you leave now, how am I ever going to find you? When are we going to talk about this?”

Chat let out a frustrated puff of breath and whirled around. “Don’t talk to me about ‘not fair.’ _Now_ you don’t like the secret identities? I’m not telling you who I am, and I’ll see you when I’m ready. These patrols are pointless, anyway. We don’t need to do them—I just wanted an excuse to see you every week. And now, I can’t be around you. You’re—you’re poisoning me. You’re killing me.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I’ve had enough of this.”

“What do you mean they’re ‘pointless’?! What about Hawkmoth?” She really sounded frantic now, but he was done with this. The reminder about his problems at home was the last straw.

“What _about_ Hawkmoth?” he spat. “Have you seen a single trace of him lately?”

Ladybug stared at him, dumbfounded. “No, but—”

“But nothing. The danger’s over; we don’t need to patrol. Goodbye, Ladybug.”

“Wait!”

He extended his staff, launching himself into the air, closing his ears to her cries of protest.

Squeezing his eyes shut in the free-fall and feeling the wind snatch tears from his lashes, he imagined for a moment what would happen if he kept his eyes closed and didn’t catch himself. If he detransformed in mid-air. How the force of the impact could knock this painful love out of him.

Then, he remembered his father and Kagami, shook his head, opened his eyes, and readied his staff for a safe landing.

He was shocked, hurt, confused, and devastated—but he had more to live for. Ladybug wasn’t going to control his life anymore. He wouldn’t let her. He wasn’t that boy anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... So yeah, that happened. What did you think? Was Chat over-the-top, or did his reactions make sense? What do you think about Marinette? What do you think will happen next?


	22. Tiptoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien does some reflecting and comes to a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone's feedback in the last chapter—sorry I got a little behind responding to comments. It was interesting to see mixed reviews about who was in the wrong—Marinette or Adrien. I'd like to say that they're both suffering from a mix of bad circumstances and small mistakes. Neither of them is perfect.
> 
> In many fics, Adrien is portrayed as being perfect, and I definitely am not going for that in this fic. But I also don't want to portray him as a total jerk, either, but rather, a flawed human who is just trying to do what he thinks is best with his limited scope and judgment, but sometimes lets his emotions get the better of him. Doesn't it happen to us all? I like to see the criticism you guys have about him though, and whether this portrayal is working or not.
> 
> By the way, to any young person who might be reading this and expects Adrien to act more like an adult—twenty-one is still a young and foolish age. :P

“…drien. Adrien!”

Adrien rolled over, burying his face in the pillow, before realizing the voice was coming from the real world, not his dream. He shot up and cursed, heart pounding with the sinking feeling of panic that he was supposed to be somewhere other than his bed. What day was it? What time was he supposed to be up? 

“Watch your language, Adrien. It’s nine-forty-five on Monday morning,” Nathalie announced, as though in answer to his panicked inner voice.

“Nathalie?!” Adrien cried. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re supposed to be attending the quarterly design screening—your father sent me to get you.”

Right, of course she had the key to his apartment. She’d been the driving force in procuring it, after all. Suddenly, his sense of privacy evaporated. He groaned.

Nathalie stood in the doorway, watching him sternly.

“Nathalie!” Adrien cried, throwing a pointed look at the door. “I need to get dressed.”

“Yes, all right—please hurry.”

She stepped out and closed the door behind her. Adrien got dressed in a flurry, brushing his teeth and taming his hair with water and gel.

When he came out into the living room, the fragrance of coffee greeted his nostrils, and Nathalie pushed his stainless steel tumbler into his hands. “Do you still drink it black?”

Adrien nodded. “Thanks, Nathalie—you really didn’t have to do that. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she returned in a rote, hurried tone. “No time to spare. Get yourself over to the office immediately!”

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m going.”

Now that he was up and alert, the memories from yesterday were flooding back, making him feel heavy, as if his heart were filling with lead. The office was the last place he wanted to be, especially since he was pretty sure Marinette would be in the meeting, and he wasn’t ready to face her. But life had little concern for his relationship problems.

— 

To Adrien’s surprise, Nathalie’s car followed him all the way to the Champs-Élysées and the Gabriel building.

“Father’s here?” Adrien prompted as they met again in the elevator, shooting up to the sixth floor.

“Yes,” Nathalie answered. The line of her mouth softened into a faint smile. “I think the trips to the theatre have been doing him good. He’s been making more effort lately. It was his idea to appear in person.”

“Good,” Adrien murmured, feeling repentant for being late himself.

The first thing he did upon entering the board room was to scan the occupants for Marinette.

As he dreaded, she was there, seated near the front beside Camille, listening intently to Henri present his lineup and taking notes in her sketchbook.

Adrien took a seat near the back and extracted his slim black notebook, uncapping a pen. He tried to focus on what Henri was saying, but kept getting distracted by Marinette. The emotional trauma from his discovery and their fight was bearable from this distance, but a different kind of anxiety started to take root in his mind as he watched her tuck her hair behind her ear repeatedly, exposing the black stud in her earlobe.

He glanced at his father, who was coolly observing the powerpoint from the seat at the head of the table, directly across from the presentation screen. Did he know what the ladybug earrings looked like when they weren’t activated? He had promised not to send out any akumas, and wasn’t wearing the butterfly miraculous anymore, but he hadn’t fully given up on the idea of making the wish.

Suddenly, Marinette’s proximity to Gabriel was deeply unsettling. He didn’t trust his father not to try other methods to obtain the miraculous, if he found out who Ladybug was. The situation was more precarious than Adrien had thought. He would have to work harder in helping Gabriel move on emotionally, at least enough to return the butterfly miraculous to Master Fu and do something about Émilie’s body in the basement, before he could be trusted.

Adrien breathed more easily when Marinette’s hair fell in front of her ear again like a curtain, shrouding the stud from view.

When it was Camille’s turn to get up and present the designs from her and her interns, Marinette straightened up self-consciously. As Camille went through the design concepts one by one, Adrien wondered which ones Marinette had worked on, feeling sick with admiration. It made perfect sense that she was Ladybug. She was so creative and resourceful, strong-willed and big-hearted. He wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. The longing he felt, to get closer to her and forge a real relationship with her, was almost intolerable. Yet, there were so many complications, and he wasn’t ready to let go of the dregs of resentment he felt toward her.

Finally, mercifully, the meeting ended. On the way out, Marinette caught his eye and smiled—of course, oblivious to his inner turmoil. He averted his eyes, not yet ready to handle a direct interaction with her.

When he snuck a glance at her a moment later, she looked concerned.

“Adrien.”

Adrien looked up at the source of the voice—his father was coming toward them. Marinette smiled and greeted Gabriel, and Adrien tensed, checking if her earrings were visible. Barely.

His father returned her greeting, like normal, and pulled Adrien aside to discuss manufacturers.

Marinette slipped out of the conference room, and relief trickled down Adrien’s limbs.

If every day was going to be like this, he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Maybe Gabriel working from home wasn’t so bad, after all.

—

As soon as Adrien got to his personal office, he closed the door and switched on the window tinting to make the pane of glass facing the hall opaque. He slumped at his desk in despair. “Plagg, I don’t know what to do.”

The ancient being zipped out of hiding.

“You and Ladybug are supposed to be a team,” he reprimanded his charge. “You can’t look out for Paris if you aren’t getting along. Even if your father isn’t sending out akumas, that doesn’t mean the danger has entirely passed—there’s a reason Master Fu has let you keep your miraculouses. The first step is to apologize to Ladybug.”

Adrien rubbed his temples, his head spinning with conflicting emotions. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet,” he muttered.

“What did she do wrong, Kitten?”

Adrien scowled. Plagg used that nickname whenever he thought Adrien was making a bad decision and was trying to talk him down. He felt like everything was spiraling out of control—even his kwami wasn’t on his side.

“What did she do wrong?” Adrien sighed, forcing himself to reflect on this question.

He had been so worried about her vulnerability in front of Gabriel that he had barely stopped to think about why he was upset with her.

“Plagg… don’t you get it? She never even let me buy her coffee or _anything_ for eight years. She barely even stayed to talk after akuma fights! The only way I could get her to spend time with me was patrol. And all of a sudden she’s inviting me to her home, snuggling and watching movies—and that whole thing about _best friend_ privileges—” he felt raw frustration rise again as he rattled off the things that hurt him. “ _What the heck,_ Marinette? If she meant it, would it have killed her to show me an ounce of that as Ladybug? She treated me like a—like a freaking business partner! Why so different as Marinette? I don’t get it!”

“Maybe she was just being cautious.” Plagg sounded optimistic. “You didn’t let her explain, Kitten. Give her a break.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe,” Adrien growled, feeling even more hurt that Plagg didn’t seem to sympathize. He lowered his voice to a whisper, drawing Plagg to hover by his cheek to hear. “Even more importantly, I’m worried sick that Father is going to find out and try something. Her earrings are so obvious! She’s just flaunting them right in front of him!”

“Kitten, calm down,” Plagg soothed, nuzzling Adrien cheek with rare affection that he only pulled out when Adrien was visibly upset. “She ‘flaunted’ them right in front of _you_ for years, and you didn’t notice a thing. Do you really think your father would put two and two together?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Adrien stressed.

“Not a chance, kid. Not a chance. Trust me, I’ve had experience with situations like this. Unless, of course, you do something stupid to reveal her.”

At this suggestion, Adrien went cold with dread. Suddenly, he understood why Ladybug had been so insistent on keeping their identities a secret. “Plagg, I don’t know if I can handle this pressure,” he muttered.

“Kid, just calm down and don’t freak out. You will be _fine_ as long as you don’t panic and do something ridiculous.”

“Plagg, stop planting ideas!”

“—which you won’t, because you’re a highly capable, mature, adult human. Step one. _Chill out._ Step two. Talk to Ladybug and apologize.”

Adrien glared at his desk.

Plagg watched him for a moment before speaking in a measured tone. “Why are you still angry, Kitten?”

“I know I’m being an idiot,” Adrien sighed, “But why do I have to be the one to apologize? Sure, maybe I shouldn’t have gone off on her like that, but…” he trailed off, trying to find the right words. ‘ _That wasn’t fair’_ sounded too childish. ‘ _She betrayed me’_ sounded like too much of an accusation. “She hurt me,” he finished in a small voice. 

Plagg tousled his hair affectionately. “Of course. Remember that you confessed to her while she was Ladybug, kid.”

Adrien dragged a hand down his face. “So? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“So maybe there’s a reason she’s been rejecting you for years. Why would it be any different this time?”

“I _know_ the reason—she told me,” Adrien moaned, “She likes this other guy.”

“That’s what she _says,_ anyway. Have you ever considered that there might be another reason she’s been rejecting you as _Ladybug?_ ”

“You mean… she might have responded differently as Marinette?”

Plagg shrugged. “I really don’t know, kid. Maybe, maybe not.”

“But… she’s the same person.” Adrien slumped in his chair, throwing his head back in misery. “Why would she act any different? I don’t get it.”

“Don’t you act different as Chat Noir?”

“Yeah, but… that’s just because I can’t act the way I want as Adrien most of the time. I have to be _perfect_. It’s not like anyone’s putting those types of expectations on Marinette. She’s always been so sincere.”

“Maybe it’s the other way around,” Plagg suggested.

Adrien sat up. “What? You mean it’s like that for Ladybug? She’s putting on an act?”

Plagg shook his head. “You’re hopeless, kid. You’ve really never thought about it?”

“But I mean…” Adrien frowned. “What does that have to do with her relationship with me? Chat Noir? Doesn’t she know she can be herself around me?” The thought that she hadn’t been sincere around him as Ladybug for all these years made him very sad.

Plagg flew to the cabinet where Adrien kept cheese. “I don’t know, kid. I may not be as oblivious as you, but I’m still guessing here. That’s why I told you to talk to her.” He phased through the door and nudged it open a moment later, holding a gooey wedge.

“Right. Talk to her,” Adrien repeated, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can do that.”

Next Sunday, at their next scheduled patrol.

—

After twenty minutes of clicking aimlessly through manufacturer websites, gathering information, downloading catalogs, and sending off emails, the words were all starting to blur together inside his tumultuous mind. A knock on the door posed a welcome diversion.

“Come in,” Adrien called out.

To his surprise, Marinette tentatively opened the door and stepped inside.

“M-Marinette!”

“Hi, Adrien. Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to ask…” She played with the button on the cuff of her pastel pink blazer. “Are you okay?”

The question hit Adrien out of left field. “Um—yes, of course. Why?”

Marinette bit her lip. “Sorry, if it seems like I’m jumping to conclusions, it’s just—you didn’t seem like yourself, and um… I got worried, that’s all. Sorry.”

Part of Adrien’s heart melted at her admission, but the complicated emotions he felt toward Marinette now, combined with his vulnerability, put him ill at ease. Moreover, he wasn’t sure if his father was still in the office. He didn’t want to make it seem like he and Marinette were close, in case it gave his father any ideas. Gabriel knew Adrien was Chat Noir, after all; he knew he loved Ladybug and would surely pay special attention to anyone Adrien showed favor toward. The only reason he hadn’t suspected Kagami was because he had akumatized her, but Marinette? She had never been akumatized. It wouldn’t take much to connect the dots.

“I’m fine,” Adrien said, sounding perhaps a little more curt than he intended. “Is that why you’re here? Just to see if I was okay?”

“Uh… yeah,” Marinette confessed.

“Oh.” Adrien felt a lump in his throat, and had to fight to keep tears from welling up. Many words came to mind, none of which he was at liberty to say: _No, I’m not okay. It’s your fault that I’m not okay. But actually, I don’t blame you. It’s my fault for falling in love with you. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I still love you, but I’m mad at you right now. And I don’t understand you. Why were you so cold as Ladybug? Just tell me why, so it can make sense and I can forgive you. I’m sure I’ll forgive you right away, because I love you._

To Adrien, Marinette equated to warmth and kindness. She helped her friends without reservation, and was generous with her time. Even despite Plagg’s suggestions, it was difficult to reconcile this sweet, caring girl in front of him with the stoic, aloof Ladybug who stood up his attempts to spend time with her and kept him at arm’s length. He was about to cry, and it was entirely inappropriate for Marinette to see that, especially at the office, doubly especially because she had no inkling about what was going on. “Maybe you shouldn’t be here,” he forced out.

Marinette looked taken aback. “What do you mean? I-I just thought… I mean…” She looked disoriented, as if reevaluating her version of reality. “We’re friends, right, Adrien?”

“Of course,” Adrien choked, getting up from his desk to usher her to the door. She needed to get out now before he had a complete breakdown in front of her. As he approached, she took a step back, into the doorframe. “Sorry, Marinette, it’s just… maybe you shouldn’t be seen coming by. It’s…” He floundered for an excuse. “…not appropriate, and… people might start talking.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth, then seemed to rethink her words. “R-right. Of course. It’s not appropriate. I’m sorry… I’m completely out of line. Excuse me.” She quickly turned around to leave.

Adrien wasn’t sure what reaction he expected, but the hurt expression on Marinette’s face _definitely_ wasn’t it. “Wait, Marinette, I didn’t mean—”

“No, I understand.” She looked back, her eyes seeming a little red at the rims. “Things have changed, and… anyway, take care, Adrien.” She shut the door behind her.

Adrien cursed under his breath, letting his forehead thump against the wood of the door as tears started to leak uncontrollably down his cheeks. “What is wrong with me?”

“That could have gone better,” Plagg commented helpfully at his side.

—

Adrien sat at his piano bench, left foot hooked under his right knee, half-heartedly picking out the notes of Satie’s Gymnopedie No. 1 from memory.

His attention was drawn to how different it sounded when he felt depressed, versus when he was feeling okay.

When he had played it with Marinette, the piece had sounded poised and peaceful, beautiful, if tinged with a hint of bittersweet melancholy.

Now, though, it sounded like mood music to a despondent walk along the Seine, too empty of energy to even feel anguished, kicking stones and contemplating whether to jump in. Not that he wanted to—the mental image just came to mind unbidden as the notes fell on his ears and echoed in the void of his heart.

He was reminded of the expression marking at the top of the sheet music— _lent et douloureux,_ slow and painful. He never fully understood how the piece could sound painful until now.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Marinette-slash-Ladybug, a heartsickness that seemed to eat him alive from the inside out, like a Cataclysm to the gut.

He stopped playing, feeling frustrated with himself.

Even if he did apologize, he couldn’t fathom any possible happy ending between him and Marinette, even as friends. Even _if_ she let him visit her balcony again after this, how could he do that in good conscience? His previous moral qualms regarding Kagami aside, how could he keep visiting civilian-Ladybug’s home? It was like begging for her identity to be revealed. He had already stumbled into it unwittingly; how long before his father noticed and pieced together the clues?

And how could he be closer to Marinette as a civilian? In his father’s eyes, it didn’t make any difference whether he was in the suit or out of it. Plus, if Adrien made it too obvious that he favored Marinette, people would start jumping to conclusions about the successes of her budding career, as Kagami had warned before.

No matter how he thought of it, there were too many dead ends. He was looking at a future of torment over a soul-consuming love that he could do nothing about, whether it was returned or not.

“Maybe I’m just not meant to be with her,” Adrien despaired out loud.

Plagg rose from a cat nap and floated to the airspace by Adrien’s shoulder. “Why do you say that, kid?”

“No matter what I do, our relationship is doomed before it’s even started,” he moaned. “God, why do I have to love her? I give up. I can’t do this anymore. I thought it was bad with Ladybug, but… ugh! Why am I so stupid?” He stood up. “…Where’s my phone?”

“Here, kid.” Plagg nudged the cell phone lying on his bed.

Adrien picked it up and placed a call.

“Who are you calling, kid?”

“Hey, Tigress.”

Plagg put a little paw to his forehead in exasperation. Adrien glared at him defiantly.

“Just wanted to talk to you … Nah, I’m home now. … Sure, I’ll make reservations.”

As soon as Adrien hung up the phone, he rounded on Plagg. “What? Don’t judge me. What am I supposed to do?”

“Not go back to your rebound. Real mature, Adrien.”

“It’s never going to work out with Marinette. Plus, she doesn’t even like me.” Tears came to Adrien’s eyes, but he scrunched his brow and blinked them away, determined not to be bested by his emotions. “I’m sick of just languishing and wishing for more with her. Kagami’s awesome—we get along great. And we’re still officially dating. I owe it to her to be a better boyfriend. I was just being stupid about Marinette—my head was in the clouds.”

Plagg clearly disapproved, but he seemed to understand the futility of attempting to dissuade Adrien. “Suit yourself, kid. I’ll just be over here enjoying cheese and waiting for you to come to your senses.”

Sighing heavily to dispel the cloud of gloom hanging over him, Adrien picked up the phone again to call the restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys, thanks for reading this chapter. What do you think? Let me know in the comments.
> 
> Just a slight backstory about Gymnopedie No. 1. Many months ago, I listened to a Ladrien audiofic by Eleanor Rose ([Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCnOsBVoZC-cElgRB0DQs0iw) on YouTube) in which Adrien plays Gymnopedie No. 1 for Ladybug when she visits his room, and he tells her the song is meant to be played "painfully," but he can't bring himself to do that when she's there. (I can't remember which fanfiction it is now, otherwise I'd link to it.)
> 
> I was already familiar with this piece, and never thought of it as sounding "painful," so that line really stuck to me. I confirmed that some versions of the sheet music _do_ have that expression marking. It wasn't until a few days ago, when I was in a similar mood as Adrien, and I happened to listen to the piece, that I realized how it could sound "painful." So, I decided to use that. Thanks, life, for giving me fuel for writing.


	23. Pleasant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Kagami have a much-needed talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys. There were some great points and questions brought up in the comments that I was burning to respond to, but I got behind, sorry. I promise I'll respond soon, but some of them will be answered in the future chapters. Thank you so much for thinking so deeply about the characters and offering your thoughts and analyses. I really love that feedback.

“Adrien… do you want me to just go home?”

“No, sorry, hold on…” Adrien finished typing an email and sent it off, before closing the window and swiveling his chair around. Kagami was laying on her stomach on his bed, a book cracked open in front of her.

“What are you reading?”

“Rimbaud.”

“Poetry?”

“Didn’t think I’d have time to get into anything. If you’re busy, I can go.”

“No, don’t go—I’m done.”

“Are you sure? You said that an hour ago.” As Adrien nodded, Kagami sat up, closed the book, and checked her phone. “It’s late, anyway.”

“Kagami... you can go if you _want_ to, but… you don’t have to. I mean, please stay?” Adrien didn’t feel like being left alone, because the second Kagami was out the door, he’d be consumed by thoughts of Ladybug-slash-Marinette again. “We could watch _The Girl Who Leapt Through Time,_ ” he offered. “It would be over before midnight.”

Kagami shrugged, her face impassive. “Sure.”

She hugged her knees quietly as Adrien located the file and opened it up.

He turned off the light, pressed play, and flopped onto the bed beside Kagami, reclining against the pillows propped up on the adjacent wall.

This was okay. No… this was nice. Finishing off a productive week by watching a movie with Kagami. It felt like things were back to normal… things were going well.

If, of course, he ignored the fact that his relationship with Ladybug-slash-Marinette was hanging by a thread. He had shoved this fact to the back of his mind—it was the only way he could carry on with life and focus on work—but it was keeping him on edge, as if there were a paper dam separating him from an emotional breakdown.

He had glimpsed Ladybug on the Eiffel Tower a couple of afternoons that week. She was poised like a sentinel, giving Parisians the peace of mind that their city was under protection, but he knew she was really only doing it to attract his attention and invite him to come out and talk.

As tempting as it was, he refrained. He didn’t want a repeat of last time—his emotions and his tongue running away from him, leaving him with the bitter taste of regret.

He needed the time to distance himself from the situation, enough to think rationally and fairly. He was holding out for Sunday’s patrol when he planned to apologize, beg for Ladybug’s forgiveness, and talk it out. It would hurt, but they could get through this. Things could go back to normal. Ladybug and Chat Noir, dynamic crime-fighting duo. Marinette and Adrien, friendly co-workers.

… Which was another problem. They weren’t exactly on friendly co-worker terms anymore. He hadn’t seen Marinette since Monday, when they had parted on a sour note. He wanted to make amends, but he hadn’t run in to her, and wasn’t sure whether it was okay to seek her out in the studio just to apologize. Did she even make anything of that interaction? _He_ was certainly torn up about it, but what about her? Maybe she’d forgotten about it already.

How had he made such a muck out of things all of a sudden?

The movie had barely started when Kagami turned to Adrien and asked, “Adrien, what’s wrong?”

He blinked. “Nothing. Why?” He had no intention of sharing any of his thoughts with Kagami; she wouldn’t understand, anyway.

“You’re brooding.”

“I am _not_ brooding,” Adrien protested, “I’m just watching the movie.”

Kagami crawled off the bed and crossed the distance to Adrien’s desk to pause the movie, then turned on the lights. Completely unnecessary.

Adrien pursed his lips, squinting as his eyes readjusted to the light. “You don’t have to do this, Tiger. Let’s just watch the movie.”

“No, Adrien.” Kagami climbed back onto the bed and shuffled forward on her knees, facing Adrien, before coming to sit in front of him, cross-legged. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re running away from your problems… well, that’s not going to fly with me. Let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Kagami dove right in. “You haven’t mentioned Marinette in a while.”

Adrien froze, becoming suddenly self-conscious. Kagami had always been perceptive about how he was feeling, but he hadn’t prepared for her to confront him about Marinette. He didn’t know what to say, since honesty wasn’t an option with secret identities involved. He stalled. “Why would I mention her? And why would that mean something was wrong?”

Kagami stared at Adrien until it was almost physically painful to hold her gaze.

“What?” he challenged.

Kagami sighed in resignation, softening and putting a hand on his knee. “You told me you were in _love_ with her. You don’t change your mind that quickly. Something happened, didn’t it?”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “What? No! Why would you think something happened?”

“Adrien…” Kagami shook her head in exasperation. “I’m not going to play this game with you. I know why you’ve been hanging out with me lately and don’t want me to leave, even though you seem bored with my company.”

Kagami’s blunt words rang true—and the truth was ugly. Adrien’s first instinct was to argue, but he wouldn’t be able to fool her, anyway.

Kagami pushed further. “Something happened with Marinette, and you’re just using me as an anaesthetic.”

“That’s not true,” he mumbled halfheartedly, looking down.

Kagami folded her arms across her chest in a guarded posture. “Yes, it is. You’re so obvious.” Despite her attempt to keep a neutral countenance, hurt bled out through her expression, shooting pangs of guilt straight into Adrien’s chest.

He fiddled with the edge of the comforter. “Sorry. I know I haven’t been treating you fairly lately. I never meant to take advantage of you, it’s just… things got complicated, quickly, and I didn’t want to lose you as a friend. I know. I’m terrible. You can leave if you want to.”

“If you want me here, I won’t leave.” Kagami spoke stiffly, arms still bracing herself. “You don’t have to worry about losing me. Have I ever left you for any reason?”

“No…” She hadn’t, of course, yet their relationship had been constructed out of friendly competition, quiet companionship, dinner dates, and shared glances at fancy events. They hadn’t been tested like this before. There was no precedent to go off. “Honestly, I thought you might,” Adrien admitted. “Usually people don’t stay friends after they break up.”

Kagami’s expression darkened. “How many times do I have to remind you not to judge our relationship based on other people’s standards?”

“Okay… sorry,” Adrien muttered.

“Eight years of knowing you loved someone else, and I never left you.”

Adrien realized she meant it—that was love. She _would_ always be there for him, just as he vowed to himself he would always be there for Ladybug. Except, he had failed that test. After finding out who she was, he had accused her and run away from her, and was now rejecting her attempts to fix things between them. _God, what is wrong with me?_ Adrien thought, struck with the sudden urge to go out and find Ladybug _now._

But, he shouldn’t be rash. Kagami was here. He couldn’t just tell her, ‘Sorry, changed my mind, I think you’d better leave after all.’

He owed it to Kagami to be a better friend, even if he wasn’t the best boyfriend. She didn’t deserve everything he was putting her through. Even now, after Adrien had all but told her he wasn’t in love with her, she was knowingly allowing him to use her to alleviate the pain of his situation. He felt like garbage. It wasn’t fair to drag Kagami into this—she was collateral damage to his own self destruction.

The two of them sat in silence, unsure how to untangle this knot. Everything felt stilted and wrong.

For one thing, he could not keep up the pretense of dating her. He had tried to make it work, but the splinter in their relationship kept growing and getting infected, and he didn’t want to push it to the point that _she_ decided she was fed up and wanted nothing to do with him. He needed to break up with her. Maybe he could start there. “Listen, Kagami…“

“Wait,” Kagami interrupted him. “Before you say anything… may I?”

Adrien nodded and looked up, determined to stick to his guns regardless of whatever came out of her mouth next.

“I’m sorry.” She lowered her eyes in deference. “I shouldn’t have tried to hold on to you when you told me you wanted to break up. I don’t want to force you to date me against your will.”

Adrien’s lips parted in relieved surprise. “You didn’t do that,” he countered softly. “I stayed willingly.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Adrien hoped his words sounded sincere, because they were. “You’re important to me. I wanted you to be sure of that.”

Kagami was silent. When he heard a sniffle, Adrien looked up, to see her head buried in her arms that were wrapped around her knees.

“I’m sorry,” he stated feebly, feeling helpless.

“You don’t have to apologize for not being in love with me,” Kagami mumbled into her arms. She peeked up, before hiding her face again in shame. “I feel like an idiot. I was acting like a child. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Adrien moved to her side and wrapped his arms around her tentatively. “Is this okay?”

Kagami nodded mutely, and Adrien pulled her against him, rubbing her back comfortingly. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he murmured.

“Don’t be sorry,” Kagami choked. “Though, I wish you hadn’t lied to me and said it wasn’t her.”

Adrien didn’t correct her—the truth was too complicated. No choice but to confess to the lie. “…Sorry.”

Silence descended between them again for a few minutes.

“In case it wasn’t clear,” Kagami declared in a stronger voice, finally unfolding and extracting herself from Adrien’s arms. “We can break up, if you still want to.”

“We should,” Adrien confirmed sadly, then continued in a contrite tone, “I’m really sorry for ruining everything. Can we still be friends?” He winced.

Kagami wiped her eyes and gave him a shaky smile. “Of course. Didn’t I tell you? Why do I have to keep telling you?” She flicked his forehead with playful spite.

Adrien rubbed his forehead, accepting the punishment. “Thank you… sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. We’re square already,” Kagami pouted.

Giving Kagami a lopsided smile, he pulled her into his arms again and planted an affectionate kiss on the top of her head. “Kagami, you’re really special to me, okay? I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you. Please believe me. I do love you.”

Kagami nodded. “I know.”

There was no need to tell her it wasn’t the kind of love she wanted from him. He knew she would feel humiliated if he called attention yet again to the fact that he didn’t return her feelings. She already understood, anyway, otherwise she wouldn’t have broken up with him—they didn’t have to acknowledge it.

“You’re the best,” Adrien murmured. He really did appreciate her. “Can we go back to watching the movie now?”

“Hold on, Adrien. You still haven’t told me what happened with Marinette.”

Great. What should he say? “…Kagami… All right, I’ll admit that something happened, but I’d rather not talk about it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you confess to her?”

“Uh…” Yes? But not as Adrien. “No. No, I didn’t.”

“You hesitated,” she accused.

“It’s complicated,” he insisted.

Kagami crossed her arms. “You know you can trust me.”

Adrien gave her a weary smile. “I know, Tiger. Thank you. I just… can’t talk about it right now. Maybe later. Okay?”

Kagami nodded reluctantly, her face downcast.

“Let’s watch the movie?” Adrien pleaded.

“All right. You win… for now.”

—

When the movie ended, Kagami was tangled in Adrien’s arms, her head resting on his chest. “Can you get home okay?” he asked. “I have an air mattress, if you wanted to stay.”

“Going home wouldn’t be a problem, but…“ Kagami considered her options, giving a wan smile at the irony of the situation. “Sure. I'll stay.”

—

That night, lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling in adjacent beds, they stayed up into the wee hours of the morning—just talking. About the things they had done together, about their parents, about the funny things Kagami’s students said, about the quirks Adrien’s coworkers had. There were no tears; there was no drama. It was pleasant. Almost as if the breakup had dissolved some barrier between them, bringing them even closer than before.

Just as Adrien suspected Kagami might have fallen asleep, she piped up with a question.

“Adrien, may I make a request?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“The Midsummer Ball is on Sunday… could we still go together? I mean, I know you don’t _have_ to bring me. But, maybe it would be good to end things gracefully… for the media…” Even Adrien could tell it was an excuse. “Just one last date.”

He didn’t have to think about it. Of course he would give her this. “Sure.”

Kagami smiled. “Thank you.”

The company-wide ball was that Sunday, right after patrol. It was a networking event, and a good opportunity for interns to wear their own designs and catch the attention of their superiors. Marinette would undoubtedly be in attendance. Even if the talk with her went well that afternoon, he had no plans to reveal his identity, and he expected it to be a rough evening. It would be nice to have Kagami there to keep him sane.

“I’m really glad we’re friends, Tiger.” Adrien smiled at her in the dark. She rolled over in the air mattress set up beside his bed, and he could barely see the outline of her returning smile in the silver glow from the curtained window.

He knew he was hurting her, but if she was willing to give him her friendship, what choice did he have? Even though there was no way to repay a broken heart, he would make it up to her the best he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think about this chapter? Let me know in the comments.


	24. Harmony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien has breakfast with his father and shows him what he's been working on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, my apologies for the slow-down in updating this story and responding to comments. Sometimes, you need to do some soul-searching or come to personal realizations to get on with a story. :) I hope you like this chapter.

Adrien entered the dining room to find his father seated at the head of the table, where Adrien had eaten many lonely meals in his adolescence. The plate set before him was untouched, and there was another one at the seat to his right.

“Good morning, Adrien.” The faintest smile graced Gabriel’s lips. “Have you eaten?”

He had—a fruit-and-yogurt parfait—but it was light, and the fact that his father had waited for him to eat breakfast together warmed his heart. “No,” he replied, taking his seat and flashing his father a bright smile. “Thank you for thinking of me, Father.”

“Of course,” Gabriel grunted, sounding almost embarrassed, and picked up his knife to help himself to some butter.

“You seem to be in a good mood, Father,” Adrien commented, taking his turn with the butter.

“I’m looking forward to this ‘surprise’ you have for me, Adrien.” Despite his words, Gabriel’s face didn’t show any signs that he was excited. He took a bite of his toast.

Par for the course, Adrien thought with slight amusement as he spread blackberry preserves on his toast. Then, his stomach turned as a thought fluttered into his mind like an unwelcome, stray butterfly. “It has nothing to do with the miraculouses,” he exclaimed hurriedly. “Just so you know.”

“I know that, Adrien.” Gabriel shot him a slightly irritated, questioning look. “Why would you say that? I promised to put _those days_ behind me.”

“Never mind, Father, sorry for bringing it up,” Adrien placated. “I trust you.” Yet, just a couple weeks ago, hadn’t Gabriel asked him about Ladybug’s willingness to hand over her miraculous if Chat Noir asked her? Instead of skirting the topic as usual, he decided to prod the sleeping dragon after all. “Since we’re talking about it now, though… may I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.” Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.

Adrien sucked in a steadying breath through his nose. “I know you’re done with being Hawkmoth, but if you happened to get the black cat and ladybug miraculouses, would you still make the wish?”

Gabriel’s expression looked pinched, and his chewing slowed, as if his mind had wandered far away, forgetting what he was doing.

“Father?” Adrien looked concerned. “… Forget it, pretend I never asked.”

“No… it’s all right.” Gabriel resumed chewing, swallowed, and continued. “I’ve had some time to speak with Nathalie. She has me convinced that … trying to fix this on my own will only make matters worse. I… I’m prepared to…“ His lips tightened.

Adrien watched his father attentively, barely daring to breathe.

“I’m _almost_ prepared to let her go,” Gabriel amended, his voice frail.

A sigh of relief escaped Adrien’s lips. He was glad the evenings out with Nathalie, away from his work, seemed to be helping. The suggestion had been risky. He was aware of the danger that the tables might turn—that Gabriel could, as usual, find a way to convince Nathalie to join him in another manipulative plot. Maybe he was being paranoid, but could anyone blame him, after eight years? He ventured another question. “And you’re _sure_ there’s nothing non-magic that we can do to revive her?”

Gabriel sighed. “We’ve been over this, Adrien. Nooroo has seen this happen before, and he explained how it works. Medically, if not for the machines keeping her body preserved, she’d already be—d-dead. Only magic could call her soul back into her body.”

Adrien took another bite of toast, watching the throw patterns of leaves from the window-light shift back and forth on the floor. Though he had had an almost decade-long mourning period to come to terms with his mother’s absence from his life, the knowledge that she was essentially dead was still raw, bringing with it a delicate and potent cocktail of emotions.

Part of him was admittedly, morbidly relieved. On some of his darker days, he had imagined that she had run away with a lover, or that she had regretted having a child and left to start a new life. He had thought his mother loved him, but considering those possibilities tainted his memories of her and made him wonder if he could really trust anyone at all. He was glad those theories weren’t true.

However… the rest of him would have preferred that she was making a living somewhere, happy, even with some other man and some other family, even if it meant she didn’t love Adrien enough to say goodbye—as long as she was alive and well.

The thought of her quietly slipping out of existence, unbeknownst to even those closest to her, like a rock dropping to the bottom of a lake—and all of _Paris_ having to suffer the tsunami-like ripples that her disappearance caused—akuma after akuma, destruction, mental trauma, children being forced into life-threatening combat—made Adrien feel sick and sorry for his mother. She would surely be horrified to realize what her half-death had caused.

But he was over being angry at his father. It was time to heal.

“By the way,” Adrien shifted the topic. “What about Nathalie? Is _she_ okay? She’s been dealing with a lot, too.”

“If she’s having any difficulties, she doesn’t show it.” Gabriel’s tight expression relaxed into a faint smile. “Nathalie has been amazing. I don’t know where I’d be without her.”

Adrien chose not to think about what state Gabriel would be in, exactly, without Nathalie. Or what state Adrien himself would be in. The woman really was a life-saver, when her blind devotion didn’t possess her to forget basic human morals. “Have you ever told her how much you appreciate her?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Of course,” he asserted, with a note of indignation that said he wouldn’t have answered otherwise, regardless of whether it was true.

“Make sure you tell her,” Adrien urged gently. “It would mean a lot to her, I think. We Agrestes are not very easy to deal with,” he joked, taking the last bite of his toast and following it up with the rest of his coffee.

Gabriel’s lips quirked up. “I will.” Observing that Adrien was finished with his breakfast, he folded his cloth napkin and set it on the table neatly beside his plate. “Now, this ‘surprise’?”

“Yes!” Adrien stood up. 

Gabriel followed suit. “Where are we going?”

“Upstairs.” Adrien hid his smile at Gabriel’s confused look.

Adrien led his father to a room on the second story that had once been his nursery, but had since been demoted to a storage space. Before turning the door handle, he briefed his father, “I hope you don’t mind that I made a few renovations… no one was really using this space, so… I moved all the boxes into the old game room… though we could probably have them put in a long-term storage facility, since we don’t really need them, and maybe we could fix up the—”

“Adrien.” Gabriel waved his hand, as if swatting a fly. “You’re rambling. We’ll decide what to do with the boxes later. Show me what’s in the room.”

“Yes, Father.” Adrien turned the handle and swung open the door.

The room had a high-ceiling, as did all the rooms in the Agreste mansion, and it felt spacious, more so because of the light decor, despite the fact that it was by far the smallest in terms of square footage. Adrien and Kagami had removed the heavy blinds, which stayed shut at all times while the room was being used for storage, and replaced them with gauzy white curtains that let plenty of natural light flood in through the window.

On the left side of the room, a white settee with a tufted back was laden with teal and ochre yellow throw pillows. A glass coffee table in front of it, with a thin golden framework, was decorated with a golden, undulating bowl containing teal-dyed potpourri. Several white picture frames were set up on the table, containing photos of Gabriel and Émilie with Adrien at various stages of his childhood.

Beside the loveseat, a tall, white bookshelf was lined with Émilie’s books, decorated with some of her belongings. Adrien had chosen only a few, to avoid overloading his father with painful emotions—her mirror jewelry box, a bowler hat stage prop she used to play with Adrien, pair of interlocking painted clam shells that she had told him was a wedding gift from a friend in Japan, and several other trinkets placed here and there.

On the right side, the wall was decorated with photos of Émilie—posed photos with Adrien and Gabriel, candid shots of her on the movie set while filming Solitude, and Adrien’s favorite—one of her dancing with Gabriel before they got married. His back was to the camera, but her face, upturned to his, was perfectly captured, her eyes sparkling with love and mischief.

Adrien turned to his father. “What do you—oh.”

Tears were streaming down Gabriel’s cheeks, his hand raised to his open mouth, as he took in the scene. “You… it… would have been kind to warn me beforehand, Adrien,” he chastised softly.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize. This is…” Gabriel stepped into the room, picking up one of the picture frames from the coffee table. It was an outdoor shot of Émilie leaning into Adrien’s stroller to kiss his head. He must have been only a year old. “… Why?”

“It’s part of moving on,” Adrien explained, walking over to a small, white desk, almost like a vanity, set up on the picture wall, across from the couch. Instead of a mirror, there was a curved monitor. He jiggled the mouse, waking up the computer, and the desktop picture appeared—the same one he had used on his personal desktop for years, of his mother on her seventeenth birthday. It was a favorite of both his and his father’s. Adrien pointed at a small webcam attached to the top of the monitor. “Whenever you want to talk to Mom, come in here and make a video for her, of everything you want to say. It’ll be like talking to her. Or, if you don’t want to say anything, but you’re just missing her, you can read her books or… watch her videos.”

“Videos?” Gabriel choked.

Adrien nodded. “The ones she used to take of me when I was a baby. Usually she’s holding the camera, so you don’t get to see much of her, but… you can hear her voice.” He fought the tears that prickled at the corners of his eyes. “I found them on a flash drive when I was cleaning out the room.”

“My God, Adrien…” Gabriel shook his head in disbelief. “I’d been afraid to look for those videos.”

Adrien smiled weakly. “…Well… what do you think? I hope it’s not too much. I hope it… actually helps.”

“I don’t know, Adrien… we’ll have to put it to the test.” Gabriel cleared his throat, turning his head to pinch the tears out of his eyes out of Adrien’s view. “Thank you for doing this, Adrien. How did you manage to do this? And when…?”

“I may have had my own reasons for pushing you and Nathalie out the door,” Adrien admitted with a smirk. “Kagami helped with the decor.”

“Ah, Miss Tsurugi, of course.”

Adrien winced at Kagami’s debut into the conversation, somewhat regretting mentioning her. His father still didn’t know that they had ended their relationship, but now wasn’t the time to tell him. Thankfully, Gabriel didn’t linger on her.

“The room looks beautiful. Émilie did love these colors. You did well, Adrien.”

“Thank you Father,” Adrien breathed, then his tone hardened as he went on. “There are conditions, though. The room will stay locked, and I’m leaving the key with Nathalie. You’re only allowed in here for an hour at a time, once a day.”

Gabriel met Adrien’s eyes and nodded slowly.

“I hope you understand why,” Adrien continued. “You can’t live in the past, Father. We have to move on. We have a company to run. And… I want to live my life, too.” He didn’t elaborate, letting the implications of that statement hang in the air.

“I understand,” Gabriel confirmed. In a stiff gesture, he raised a hand to grip Adrien’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I’ve been so… absent. I’m not blind to everything you’ve been doing to help, son. Thank you.”

Gabriel’s attempt at warmth was awkward, yet heartwarming. Adrien’s face broke into a grin, and he pushed through the discomfort to draw his father into a hug. Gabriel patted Adrien’s back, as if unsure what else to do with his hands.

“Anything for you, Father.”

—

“Well… that went smoothly.”

“Yeah.” Adrien hung up his keys on the hook beside the door and took off his shoes, while Plagg immediately zipped to the cheese cabinet. 

Adrien sank into the couch. Plagg came back from the kitchen to hover by his right cheek, holding a bitten chunk of cheese. “Something on your mind, kid?”

“Eugh—get that out of my face, Plagg.” Adrien pushed Plagg away with one index finger, knowing the kwami would humor him by staying solid, letting himself be pushed. “I’m just thinking about Marinette.”

“What’s new?”

“Well, you asked.”

“You’re gonna talk to her tomorrow, kid. Everything’s gonna be okay!”

Adrien stretched out on the couch, pulling up his legs and hooking his arms behind his head. “Yeah, but… I got the idea of the room from her. She told me about how her mom used to write letters to her grandmother every day, when she passed away. I figured Father would need something a little more immersive to get his mind out of the abyss he’s fallen into, but… I would never have thought of doing it until that talk with Marinette. And I was thinking I’d really like to thank her for that. I feel like Father and I made some progress today, and… that’s a really big deal.”

Plagg settled on the armrest of the couch, by Adrien’s feet. “Yeah, kid, I know you’ve been struggling. Haven’t I always told you how great bakery girl is?”

Adrien let out a humorless laugh through his nose. “… Yeah. I know. I should have listened to you.”

Plagg perked up and flew closer. “Can you say that again, kid?”

Adrien swatted at Plagg, but this time, he phased through Adrien’s hand, little fangs glinting in a smug smirk. “Yeah, yeah, you were right all along. I should have started dating her when she confessed to Chat Noir back in collège.” He let out a sigh that was much heavier than he intended.

“Aww, no, kid, don’t get started on this again.”

“ _You’re_ the one who started it,” Adrien grumbled glumly, then suddenly sat bolt upright. “I’ve got it!”

Plagg looked confused. “Got what?”

“An idea of how to thank her.” He ran upstairs to his room and came back with his laptop and an external mic. Plugging in the mic, he set it, and the laptop, on the coffee table, pressed play, and sat down at the piano. “Plagg, I’m about to make a recording. _Please_ stay quiet.”

“Even if I made all the noise I wanted, you wouldn’t hear a peep on the recording,” Plagg boasted, perching on the piano’s music rack.

“All right, suit yourself.” With a smile, Adrien started to play a jazz version of A Town With an Ocean View, the theme from Kiki’s Delivery Service.

“Oh, yeah! Bakery girl loved these,” Plagg piped. He flew inside the piano and began hopping from string to string. “Can you play the Princess Mononoke song next?”

“Sure,” Adrien answered, before letting out a groan of frustration when he realized he had spoken aloud and ruined his recording. “Plagg!!!”

“Hey, why are you blaming me? You could have just nodded.”

“You’re distracting me! Can you just—go and eat cheese?”

“All right, with pleasure.” Plagg drifted away, ears drooping. “Cheese would never be so cruel.”

“I love you, Plagg,” Adrien called after him in a singsong voice.

“Yeah, yeah.”

—

A few hours later, Adrien was sitting cross-legged on the couch with the laptop on his lap, labeling the filenames with the song titles. He had recorded and mastered ten tracks and dropped them into a black, brushed-aluminum flash drive—carefully chosen for being devoid of Gabriel branding, and one Marinette hadn’t seen in his possession before.

Beside him on the sofa lay a thin box of stationery he had bought on a sentimental whim during a trip to China—the center was blank and unlined, and around the edges were ink-wash designs of tiny ladybugs on bamboo shoots. He extracted one sheet and set it on the closed laptop cover as a writing surface.

Taking out one of the 0.38mm pens he used for writing in Chinese (he liked the fine lines), he started to compose a letter in a modified hand, a little more scrawly than the usual.

_My Dearest Marinette,_

… What if she felt overwhelmed by that? He crumpled up the paper and threw it aside, pulling out a fresh one to start over.

_Dear Marinette,_

He paused, staring at the blank page. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he didn’t want to overwhelm or upset her. He shouldn’t even be writing her a note before seeing her tomorrow. Yet, he couldn’t resist. 

The music. He’d just jot her a short note about the music, and the reason for it, and that would be enough.

_I know I’m going to see you tomorrow anyway, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you today (or, any time the past week, really), and I wanted to say thank you, and I’m sorry._

_Thank you, because after our conversation about how to cope with losing someone, I had an idea of something to try with my father, and I think it’s going to work. At least, my father liked the idea and is willing to give it a try, which is a huge step in what feels like the right direction. I was starting to feel desperate before, so I’m really grateful for the inspiration you gave me. Thank you, so much._

_Also, I’m sorry. I know I said some terrible things to you last week. I wish I could take everything back… you did nothing wrong except show me that you care about me. I can’t say I fully understand you, but I trust that you didn’t have any bad intentions toward me, and I have no right to be angry with you just for being kind. Your friendship and kindness have always been valuable and precious to me. There are no words to express how sorry I am, Marinette._

_I know it’s nothing big, but since you liked those Ghibli jazz numbers, I played a few and put them on a flash drive for you. I hope they cheer you up. I won’t drop by anymore, but when you listen to these songs, please remember that I love you always._

_With all my love,_

_C._

Instead of a period, he drew a little pawprint. Simply the letter C should be vague enough, right? Just in case the letter fell into the wrong hands.

Folding the letter precisely and pressing his finger down the crease to make it crisp, he slipped the note and the flash drive into a red envelope that had come with the stationery set.

“Plagg!” he called out.

The kwami made a bleary noise from where he had curled up to nap in a cardigan Adrien had haphazardly tossed onto an armchair.

“Wake up, buddy. Ready for a little outing?”

“Another balcony visit?”

“One last.”

“If you insist,” Plagg drawled with feigned reluctance.

—

Though the dusky sun still colored the horizon, Marinette’s interior lights were already on when Chat Noir dropped by. He only intended to leave the note on her table, weighted by a rock, maybe toss a twig at her door from the tree branch to get her attention before slipping away unseen.

Maybe it was the rustle of the leaves that gave him away, or maybe his figure on her balcony had cast a silhouette through her curtains against the orange glow of sunset. Whatever it was, as soon as he touched a toe on her balcony, the French doors burst open. Marinette barreled out in a loose cotton shirt with broad red-and-white stripes and skinny jeans, hair down and fluttering around her shoulders, and grabbed him tightly around the middle, burying her face in his chest. “Chat Noir!” she squealed, voice muffled. “I thought you’d never come back!”

Once the shock and surprise wore off, he realized she was trembling and wrapped his arms around her tenderly. The summer air wasn’t cold, so Chat Noir noted it with compassion as a sign of her distress. “Why wouldn’t I, Milady?” He easily fell into his old habit of using her pet name, trying to keep his voice light and cheerful to hide the way he really felt.

“I hurt you,” Marinette wailed, holding him tighter. “I’m so sorry! I thought you’d never forgive me!”

“No, Marinette,” Chat Noir soothed, rubbing her back. “I had no right to be angry. I’m the one who should be sorry. Please don’t apologize. All you’ve ever been is wonderful. It’s not your fault that you don’t love me the way I—” He stopped. He was done with making her feel uncomfortable with his confessions. He didn’t want to hurt her anymore. “Sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you and made you worry.”

He put some distance between himself and Marinette to look at her face. Her brow was tight with emotion, cheeks and lips red, tears streaming uncontrollably from her eyes. Even after Chat Noir wiped them from her cheeks, the tears continued to fall. “Don’t cry, Marinette,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you understand…” Marinette started, before a sob tore from her throat, interrupting her. She hid her face as her body convulsed with weeping.

Chat Noir pulled her into his arms again, heart breaking with sorrow and regret. “Shh,” he whispered. “I’m not mad at you, and I’ll always be here when you need me, just like before.”

Marinette’s sobs eventually quieted, and she sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I’m really happy to see you, Chaton.”

“You don’t look happy,” he chided, pulling from his pocket a handkerchief that he kept handy in case of feathers or unexpected messes. “Blow your nose.”

Marinette took it and stared at it. “I can’t—! This looks expensive!”

“Don’t be silly, Princess.” Once again adopting a jocular mask as an emotional shield against the woman he loved going to pieces in his arms, Chat Noir took her wrist between his fingers and raised the hand holding the handkerchief to her nose. “Blow, or it’s going to start dripping.”

Marinette complied, the trumpet of her nose interspersed with wet, hysterical giggles. When she was done, Chat Noir took back the handkerchief and pocketed it. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at that. “Sorry.”

“Whyever would you be? On the contrary, I thank you for your generous gift, Milady,” he joked, then removed the red envelope from his other pocket. “Now, I have a gift in return!”

Marinette’s eyes widened.

“It’s a small gesture, but… I hope you like it.” He handed it to her, and she turned it over in her hands curiously.

“Um… thanks?”

With a half-smile, Chat Noir unhooked his baton. “Well, then, my Princess,” he said, voice gentle with adoration, “I’ll leave you with that.”

“Wait, no!” Marinette nearly dropped the envelope in her eagerness to reach out and grab Chat Noir’s forearm. “Don’t leave yet! We need to talk… please!”

He leaned in to her ear. “We have a scheduled patrol tomorrow, don’t we, Bugaboo?” His voice was as soft as a cat’s tread. “I promise I’ll be there and we can talk as much as you want.”

“Why not now?”

“I… I’m not ready yet. I’ll be ready tomorrow.”

Marinette bit her lip, hesitating, before she came to a silent resolution and nodded. “Promise you’ll come?”

“I paw-mise.” He winked.

Marinette looked like she was about to berate him for not being serious, but her expression didn’t last more than a second before it softened into a fond smile. “Okay. See you tomorrow, then, Minou.”

Playfully blowing her a kiss, Chat Noir hopped onto the branch and, with a wave over his shoulder and an affected lightness of attitude that belied his heavy heart, tore himself away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go. Things are looking up, don't you think? Or at least, things are not at rock bottom anymore. Did you like this chapter? Did you feel less like punching Adrien? Haha...
> 
> I just _love_ how Plagg and Adrien playing around on the piano together is canon.
> 
> Any French people reading this, or people who have lived in France? What do you eat for breakfast? :P I tried to find out, but it seems like the usual food is just bread. It seems like a small breakfast, but when I stayed at my great aunt's house in the Philippines, we just ate bread with cheese and preserves every morning for breakfast, too. (Not that the Philippines have anything to do with France, but just sayin', I guess it's not too small of a breakfast by human standards.) When I was in Paris for two weeks visiting a friend, we just ate croissants for breakfast every morning.
> 
> I can't say when I'll update this story next. I'm being prodded to update two other stories that have been sitting on the back burner for a while. _*grins sheepishly*_ Anyway... I have the rest of the story outlined, and we're almost at the end, so I'm eager to write it, so hopefully it won't be too long. Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone is wondering, the title of the story is from a [poem](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/98/61/a7/9861a760a03fd5359c66e9b491af40be.jpg) by Nikita Gill.
> 
> Also, I'm doing this daily keyword challenge with my friend, synkiller82! Check out her story, Collapse Into Me, [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19439935/chapters/46267363).


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